Atonement
by Bond.Jane
Summary: The curse breaks and Regina is held prisoner by the citizens of Storybrooke to be made to pay for her crimes. But she is no longer the same person she once was: Emma gave her back her heart and a gift she never believed would be possible.
1. Prologue

**Author's note: **This is the story that first made me want to write for OUAT. It took longer because I wanted to understand the story before I wrote it.

**Note 2: **"In medias res" means "in the middle of the thing", so heads up on that. I'm not losing the plot.

**Note 3:** This will be the last chapter betaed the lovely MickeyBoggs. So, my darling MickeyBoggs, thank you for all the time you have given me over the years. Your patient help has taught me so much.

Much love

Jane

* * *

Prologue- _In medias res_

The curse broke when Emma's smile sank into Regina's pupils. That moment shone star-like, a diamond in the pitch black of the night sky. It shone like a perfect diamond. For that one moment, Regina was light and goodness and nothing could ever be broken or wrong. Nothing would ever hurt again.

Guess some promises are not meant to be kept.

The embrace started when Emma gathered the courage to push a damaged, unbeating heart into the Queen's chest, in cold blood, pushing against flesh and bone and logic and all that she knew. Emma pushed that heart into its long empty cavity, into a body unused to the demands of a pulsating heart.

It deepened with Regina's longing for Emma's presence, solid, calm, true in her wretched life. For a moment, when it first sat inside her chest, she could not remember why on earth she would have ever wanted that heart out. For a moment, all was warmth and _fullness_ and _completeness_. And then the pain hit her. Square in the chest, in her gut, in her heart. In her limbs and in her head. In her very soul. All of it. All the loss, all the betrayal, all the loneliness. And still, she clutched at her returned heart. Clutched at it so not to let go.

Her body jerked, writhing in pain. She held on to Emma, so as not to lose herself. All she knew was the guiding light of green eyes that pushed at the darkness of all that her heart had in its memory. And gradually, there was also warmth of a body so tight against hers and the solidity of the hands that held her through the wrenching in her body, the shattering and breaking and realignment of her whole self . And that was new. That someone was there for pain and held her, kissed her hair, smoothed her back, rubbed compassionate circles in her back.

Kissed her tears as they fell.

.

.

Her heart broke anew at the flavour of kindness. To have it returned only to have it broken again. Ah, Emma, how little you know. What use is a heart until it is made unbreakable?

Emma second guessed her quest. She had gotten the Queen her heart back. Was it really a good gift? She held Regina in her arms as if with her heart. The Queen's pain seeped into her as if by osmosis, permeating her skin as it rolled off Regina in waves.

All her logic, all the laws of biology and physics blasted to dust right in front of her. How could she have doubted Henry, the book, the curse? How could she have doubted Regina and her dead eyes? She held on tighter, a bone crushing vise, because the pain she could pinpoint in her body was so much easier than the pain that was of her heart, of her soul, of each of her cells and of her blood.

It would have been easy to break her promise. It would have been easy to let go, to walk away and spare herself the pain- hers, Regina's. It would have been so easy because she had nothing but practise at the going when the going got tough. She had thought that was savvy. She had thought it was smart and practical. It turned out her own heart knew nothing of practicalities. Harder, she clutched harder and rode the waves of heartbreak with Regina as her heart mended itself, reknitted the wholes and grew tendrils of muscle and tethers to Regina's soul. No one had told her it would be this painful.

_I'm not going anywhere. Not going anywhere. Notgoinanywhere_, she repeated the mantra, persuading each of her molecules to still, to resist the impulse to leave.

.

.

As the Queen's tears dried, Emma's volatile molecules stilled. Life, it seems, begins on the other side of despair. Her arms tightened, her body became conscious of the bed under it, of another body pressed into hers. And then, of the absence: of the sobbing, of the ragged breathing, of the shaking.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Regina. I though… I thought … I didn't know I believed it. I thought you needed your heart back. I'm so sorry"

"Why?"

"Why? Because I thought I had it all figured out. I thought it would make you happy… No, not that… I thought it would make you easier to…" She hesitated because she couldn't quite pluck up the courage. But Regina's hair was still plastered to her face with the sweat and the tears of her ordeal. She owed this to her. "I thought it would make you easier to love…"

"Why are you sorry?" Her voice was hoarse, gravelly. She took Emma's hand and pressed it, palm against heart. She had never missed it before. She had never missed it until Emma. Hearts are commodities. Superfluous. Easier to live without. "Thank you". Her thumb rubbed circled on the back of Emma's hand. "Thank you".

Because she knew, from the moment Emma set foot in Storybrook: If she'd had a heart to break, her number was – finally- up.

.

.

Regina's heart was beating under Emma's hand. It beat wildly, just like a bird's, so fragile. It had not been a thing of the body until then. Not until the moment that brave thumb pressed against Emma's hand. The fact that they had been in a tight lover's embrace for the last god knows long only became _flesh_ when Regina's breast felt solid under her palm, complete with a beating heart. Then, her eyes focused on the full lips in front of her, on the skin mottled by old grief and new pain, on the eyes ravished by tears. Regina looked more beautiful than ever and Emma understood the ditty _the fairest of them all._ She couldn't help herself. Her head tilted forward and she placed a light kiss on the other mouth. Light as rain.

And then on one eye, and then on the other and the more she kissed them more difficult it became to hold back and she never even had the time to think that it might not be something that Regina would want as well, because by the time she got some semblance of control, Regina was burrowing against her, in her arms, childlike, asking for more. Her head tilted up to Emma's and demanded more. Demanded to re-tribute, to give back.

Regina's smaller hands cupped Emma's cheek and she took a moment to marvel at the _feeling_ of warm skin under hers. The _feeling_ of feeling for someone. The _feeling_ of having a heart beating in urgency for _feeling_ of having a heart beat in joy, not fear.

Emma's smile was radiant. Open, warm, welcoming.

"Thank you. Thank you for giving me back my heart."

Her eyes absorbed Emma's smile, soaking it up. It was a smile so open that you felt like you could get inside it and walk around bare foot like you do a home.

How could it not be physical? She had a heart, an honest to goodness, bona fide, beating heart. And sometimes, happy is not just a word, it's an abundance of body and breath and it can only _remain_ happy if it overflows, if it overcomes the barrier of your skin. It is only _happy_ if it escapes the confines of your body and spills over into somebody else.

Regina's _happy_ was all wrapped up in Emma. In a mouth she hadn't known she wanted to kiss, in a body she hadn't known she wanted to touch. In a heart she did not know she wanted to belong to.

Out of the need, her magic was reborn, not that she quite noticed: Emma's bloodied clothes vanished, and one by one the cuts and bruises, all the evidence of her encounter with Regina's vengeful past on her skin became points of shimmering light, of _good_ magic, magic that did not cost her a thing. Regina had never experienced magic that did not come at a price. It would have been exhilarating had she noticed it. But the feel of the other woman's skin under her finger tips, and her appreciative sighs and the weariness she could feel going away as surely as if it had been her own quite unexpectedly gave her back the time when she had been only a girl waiting for someone to love her beyond nothing but herself. No magic, no title, no gold, no power. That simple magic tasted like love. Felt like love. Surprising, so very surprising.

She had been lied to. Not all magic came with a price.

How could it when Emma gasped when her hand slid from cheek to breast, from face to hip? How could it when instead of horror or scorn, Emma was nothing but light, like she too had a magic of her own?

How could there be a price to this _aliveness_ of her body, of her mind, after so, so long she had forgotten how it felt to be touched in love rather than as a _thing_ or as a _nothing at all_?

Emma's hands pushed back at the numbness inch by inch, moving in reverent exploration, the kisses from her mouth absolution, every single one of them.

There were legs that entwined and heat that rose in waves from two bodies that became one in strands of saliva and beads of sweat. There was a momentum that fed on itself and grew until they were a mess of limbs and skin none of them knew exactly where she ended and the other began.

And then there was the _explosion_. As if all their molecules had been scattered and then pulled back together, rearranged, realigned. And maybe, quite possibly, Emma thought, with some of them in a new body to call home.

_Emma's smile sank into Regina's pupils. That moment shone star-like, a diamond in the pitch black of the night sky. It shone like a perfect diamond_. You see, those two, Regina and Emma, they made love. And the simplest of math was indeed what broke the curse: one and one equals one.

Emma submitted to Regina's sleep. Regina's eyes closed with Emma's exhaustion. She knew- not consciously, not right there, not then – but she knew and her lips curved in a smile that was nothing short of pure: her barren, wasted body had conceived a child.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **This chapter has not been betaed, so all mistakes are mine.

Thank you all for the alerts and the reviews. I hope you enjoy this even if only half as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Much Love

Jane

* * *

Chapter 1

_This is a love story and it began, once upon a time at 8.15. It was 8.15 Storybrook time which is to say that it was a whole time zone of its own since no one had ever seen anything else on the town clock- nor any other clock or watch. It bothered no one. They were hardwired- spellbound, if you like- for compliance. No one could quite remember being younger or being any other way other than what they were now. You see, time was not the only thing that did not change. People did not change. No one grew up, no one grew old. And no one died. No was born either. It was designed that way. Everything stayed the same. The seasons passed them but the years did not._

_Until the day Madam Mayor Regina Mills grew tired of the sameness and wished for a child. But no one was born in Storybrook. Being mayor of the town made her no different from anyone else. She could not conceive or birth a child. Except that she knew it– she was the only one who knew that nothing ever changed. It was a special brand of hell to which she was doomed. _

_She desired that child with every fibre of her being. And one day, she sold the last little bit of herself to ensure it would happen. She struck a deal. Which was when she realised that, even if she had not been the only one in Storybrook that knew how things never changed, she still did not have a single person to share that loneliness with. It made her long for that child even more._

_She did not stop to question whether she could afford the terms of the deal. She had money- which she could pay. Anything else had already been taken from her, so there was nothing she would miss._

_How wrong was she._

.

.

How quickly can an army be raised out of villagers? In no time, it seemed.

They came for her at dawn when Regina still lay in Emma's arms. For the very first time she felt happy. She had a heart to feel happy with. And arms that held her and were never letting go. That all elusive happiness that had escaped since those shy kisses with Daniel by the creek was in her now. And it refused to give way to fear or experience. She was happy.

In her sleep, Emma tightened her arms around her, a haven safe from harm. And then they were on them. There were hands prying them apart and words spat at her and she was pulled from happiness as surely as from that embrace.

You can't trust happiness.

The last thing she heard were Emma's screams as her hands tried to hold on to Emma's fingers.

.

.

_The child was brought to her- a baby boy - and that very first night she fell in love. Or as much in love as she could be. She spent the night with the child in her arms, wondering how it could be that someone did not want that baby, so perfect, so untouched by everything evil and corrupt. As she smelled his hair and admired his tiny fingers gripping around hers, she swore that no harm would come to him. That she would be his mother, his guardian, his dragon. She named him Henry. _

_Henry was all that there was good about her, about her life. Her greatest achievement, her crown of glory. Henry was her heart._

_And then, one day, he was gone- even though he was still there. Her son was different. He hated her. She could not think of what she had done. She raked her brain. What had she said? What had she done? What had she refused him?_

_She couldn't recall a single whim she had not indulged. _

_But Henry was gone standing right there. Until one day that absence was physical and he did not come down for breakfast. She knew from the first moment something was wrong. A mother knows these things. They just do. She called the Sheriff once she had run the house with a fine tooth comb. They searched the town, the beach, the woods. They called and knocked on doors. Henry was not in Storybrook._

_And she was imprisoned there. Because no one ever left or arrived in Storybrook. Her son was gone and she could not follow. She could not go to him and save him if saving was required._

_She had never felt so helpless._

_He returned. Henry returned to Storybrook. Though when she opened the door and flew to him, even though he was standing right there, he still had not come back to her. _

"_I found_ my real mom!"

.

.

Regina was marched through the streets in her night clothes, her skin rapidly losing the warmth Emma's touch had created in her. If this had happened a few hours before she would not have been afraid. There been, after all, very little left by way of encouragement to _endure_. Material things could not, after all, persuade a soul to stay. Hansel and Gretel had made that abundantly clear.

But now? She felt like she still had things unlived. Now, she knew there was something for her, light and warm and she was about to lose it even before she'd had a half decent chance at happiness. She did what she always did when she was terrified: she put on her stoic mask and raised her chin high. Which was the same as screaming out loud _Do your worse!_

.

.

_Henry had _her_. He had her now. The one had not wanted him. She hated the woman right there and then. She hated her on Henry's behalf because how could you not want him? How could you not cherish him and love him. She knew. Of course she knew that if the woman had wanted Henry, he would have not been her son. And she could not even conceive her life without him. But she hated the woman just the same._

_Though it was difficult. It was so very difficult because desperate souls recognize each other. And hers recognized a desperate soul in Emma Swan's. As sure as the time that did not change in Storybrook._

_It was just that hate was such a safe, well trodden path._

* * *

_It broke Emma a little to see the woman run out of the house only to be shunned by the kid. The tears were real enough. The trembling of the hands and of the lips. Emma knew. She had a supper power- her one ability in life- to know when people were lying. This woman was the real deal. A mother through and through. The fact that she had never had one did not incapacitate her to judge. It just made it more clear. This was a mom._

_So it broke her heart on the woman's behalf to see the kid trample all over hear heart as if what she offered was unrequired and insulting. She wanted to berate him, to tell him _Hey kid, be thankful for what you got here because some of us spent a life time waiting for it and it never arrived. Be thankful because I could not have given this to you.

.

.

Do you know how a single twig can be broken with not much more than a thought but a bunch a twigs is unbreakable? Emma screamed till she was hoarse, held back by Ruby and Leroy and Michael and Granny. She shook them off and fought, scratched and bit. Their hold on her was relentless.

"Princess." It was that word out of Granny's mouth more than anything that stilled her.

"What?"

"The curse, Emma…" There was no need for any more words. No, none at all.

In the end, it took one word from her. On word only: "Please" and they released her so far as the window.

Outside, Regina was frog marched with her hands tied behind her back, barefoot. But with her head held high in defiance.

She had never seemed quite so beautiful to Emma.

.

.

_She cringed because she saw the woman pull a mask over her face as if that rebuttal of her love had not crushed her. She invited her into her home, a welcome of sorts, like a wounded animal assessing the possibility of escaping. Or the need to attack to save itself._

_Emma knew the feeling well. It was the law of the jungle and she had lived by it her whole life._

* * *

_It seemed that Regina Mills had decided the threat was too great to not attack. _

_She used all she could to drive Emma Swan out of town. Out of her town. She had paid in blood for it so it was her town. She fought. She plotted. Not even terribly inventive plots, but she did what she could to get Henry's birth mother out. To neutralise the threat._

_It was then she realised the price she would pay for her son. The cost of the deal, it seemed, was the only thing she had gained from it. She would lose her son, even with him standing right there._

_But the more she struggled, the more she tried to hold on to her end of the bargain, the more the woman stuck her feet on the ground. It didn't occur to Regina until later that Emma should not have been able to come into Storybrook. The same way no one ever left, no one ever came in. And by then it was too late. Ms Swan had carved herself a little place to stay and people cared for her in a way that one ever had cared for Regina. And that was especially true when it came to Henry._

_She realised that she could not- even if she tried- eradicate the threat because Henry was so rooted in that woman that she would drive him away if she tried. And she tried. Back then, she'd had no compunctions about eradicating such a great threat._

_She lied, she cheated. And then, she killed._

.

.

They missed the corner to the Sheriff's station. They made her walk out of town. She thought wildly they were going to hang her by the road. Her throat closed on her. She didn't get to say goodbye to Henry. But they didn't stop as they passed the first few oak trees. They just pushed her further when her steps began to falter, her feet bitten by the sharp sand and stones on the path they had taken to the old mine. It occurred to her they might just toss her down the shaft of the mine and be done with it. How would it feel? Would she have the time to feel anything? Would it be immediate or was that more than she deserved?

It seemed to her that she could see Graham above the entrance of the mine, his hands carelessly shoved in his pockets, his smile not at all different from before… before she had killed him. But when she looked again, he was not longer there.

And it felt lonely. She would die alone. Which was fitting because she had lived alone.

.

.

_Her fresh start, what she had paid so dearly for, was gone in a few words from Gold and few seconds of anger. She took the Hunter's heart in her hand and she squeezed the life out of him. She squeezed and reduced a good, kind heart to dust because Gold presented him as a threat. But it wasn't that at all, was it? _

_She cried over him. In the privacy of her room, in the dead of the night, she mourned the man who had been the only solace to her in Storybrook, the only one that had been brave enough to touch her, to put his hands on her and make the loneliness not so unbearable. She mourned the Hunter because she had killed him in a fit of jealousy, because he was leaving her for someone else, leaving her behind._

_Leaving her behind and lone._

_She hated Emma Swan more and more until it became unbearable and difficult to hold on to her mask of perfectly composed person. Her appearance to others was that of someone totally in control. But ever since Emma Swan had arrived in Storybrook, her life, her perfectly organised life, was a chaos of mending things that were fraying around the edges, trying to hold on rather than commanding._

_She hated Emma. She hated her every day, devotedly, with commitment. Never more so when Emma was the one who came back for her, though the fire, to get her, to take her in her arms and save her. She just couldn't hate her perfectly. Henry, it seemed, had cast his own spell: his belief in Emma as the saviour became her own. Henry's need to break the curse became her own. No longer was she happy to hold on to Storybrook. She had tired of living a lie. Her perfectly ordered world was collapsing before her eyes, exposing the cracks in her life, the frayed tissue that lay underneath, all that was missing. While the curse had been untouched, she had been able to believe she was happy. After Emma, she could no longer believe. She found she could no longer carry on. Whatever a broken curse would bring, it was about time. She had stolen 28 years. It was time to pay the price for that time of respite._

* * *

_Emma knew one fundamental thing about Regina Mills: she was dead inside though she was still alive. It tugged at her heart. It wasn't just Henry that made it impossible to leave. _

_She was a fighter. Not by choice but by life giving her so many opportunities to rise to the occasion. She lied to herself, first. That if she were to leave Henry with his legal mother she would have to make sure the woman was sane and a good mother and… well, OK, really. And Regina was so not OK, anything you said was an understatement. _

_One day she woke up and it was too much. A few deeds of misguided helpfulness and suddenly everyone wanted a hero. Everyone expected her to be a saviour from some sort of evil they could not quite identify. She had greatness thrust upon her but she'd be damned if she would take it._

_She tried leaving. _

.

.

"Please let me go" Emma was not above grovelling or crying if it had to be done. But it never came to it. The desolate tone had been sufficient for Ruby to relent.

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Emma. They are not going to let her go. You better stay out of it."  
"Would you, Ruby?"

"They'll kill you, too"

"_Would _you, Ruby?"

"I guess not"

But she didn't wait for the reply. She pushed onto her feet and ran down the staircase and through the empty streets, not quite knowing what she could or would do.

.

.

_In the end, she had decided to leave without Henry, which was the natural order of things and the only thing she knew how to cope with. Henry would hate her for a little while but then he would get over it. And everybody else would get on with their lives, forget her in a little while. If she stayed she would be crushing Regina into dust. And that was not what good people did. _

_You just didn't._

* * *

_It would never have o__ccurred to her that Regina would sit in that oversized kitchen of hers and just listen. Actually listen. Emma proposed some sort of arrangement where Henry could perhaps visit her in Boston a few days of the year. Life in Storybrook would remain Emma free._

_And then Regina got up, sliced apples, baked a turnover and placed it in a Tupperware in front of her._

"_This used to be Henry's favourite." Emma took it as a statement of fact and nothing further. Like an offer to share information on their son over telephone calls in the future, when the longing became too great not to call. What she didn't get immediately was something else altogether different. "Make sure he brushes his teeth every night. He tries to get away with it, when he can." And still it did not sink in. Advice for the future, she thought. "I'm not what he needs, Miss Swan. I hope you're right and that you can be better for him than me." Regina turned on her heels and moved to the staircase. "I'll pack his things now" There was a crack in her voice, as if she was talking with something stuck in her throat. "I'll send the rest when you have a fixed address"._

_Realisation hit Emma like a sledgehammer. "You what?" She thought about all the mind games Regina could be playing with her now. But she did have that supper power of hers. And Regina was not lying. _

"_Madam Mayor…"_

"_I'll be right back" And she bounded up the stairs, no hint of the grace Regina did the smallest things with._

.

.

Emma saw them going into the old mine. Regina was no longer in sight. Her heart tightened in her chest. And then she saw Mary Margaret running. Only even by the way she was running, Emma could tell that was not Mary Margaret. Or no longer Mary Margaret.

This was Snow.

She feared her then. She knew Mary Margaret, the school teacher, who was kind and sweet. This was someone fierce and with purpose in her eyes. This was someone as regal as Regina. And probably, just as deadly.

But Snow did nothing more than grab her into a tight hold and murmur disconnected things and cry and laugh all at the same time.

"My Emma".

Emma was torn between the urgency of Regina's situation and having, for the very first time, the fierce love of a mother thrown her way. She gave into Snow's embrace for a few precious seconds. She wanted the words to come out of her mouth. She wanted to say _Mom_ and have everything that had ever been wrong with her life right itself. At that moment, she was a child so desperately in need of her mother. And then she was Emma Swan again, and though she knew she would hurt her mother, she had to take a step back.

"They're going to kill her…"  
"Who?" Snow had not given anyone else but her daughter a second thought.

"Regina" The very name was like a punch that sobered her up. "Please…"

"Emma…" But she took in her daughter's pained expression. "Ok… ok. " She took Emma's hand in hers filling her chest with air, she marched into the mine.

.

.

_Emma bounded up the stairs two, three steps at a time. _

_Regina had managed to compose her features and stop any tears that had wanted to fall._

"_Lady, you have no heart." Regina did not reply. But Emma was beyond anything now. Storybrook was far too much. Momentarily, she lost it, she lost her grip on her temper. She pulled Regina by her arm and pushed her into a wall. "YOU. HAVE. NO. HEART" she spat each word. Her arms pressed Regina in a choke hold, and that's when she saw them, the tears burning like fire in Regina's black eyes. _

"_I really don't". Emma felt like she had never heard such a hurt sound. And then Regina took her hand and pressed it against her chest, where her heart should be beating. But there was nothing. Not even the faintest rumour. _

"_It's impossible" The only reply she got was the hand that Regina did not allow her to move. Emma tried to pull her hand, as you do when touching a scar or a wound or an amputated limb, in a sort of horror that is half disgust. But Regina did not let her pull away. Did not let that hand pull away until Emma's eye lids closed in acceptance. _

"_You need to take Henry. Please…"_

_Emma saw it then, that woman that had flown down to Henry when he'd first dragged her out here from Boston. Broken but with her mask in place. Emma wondered how an unbroken Regina would have looked like. That Regina before this one. No one was born like this._

"_So Henry was… right?" _

"_About the Evil Queen? Yes. And about the curse. But I do love him. So, please, Ms Swan, take him away."_

_It was all too much to understand. All too big and exaggerated, like a pastiche of reality. Emma wanted to leave. Fast. "How?" Regina crumbled then, silently, until all that was left of her were broken jagged pieces on the floor of Henry's room. And that brought Emma back. _

"_I asked. I asked to have it removed."_

"_Do you want it back?" _

_She did. Gods, yes, she did. But she would send no one for it. Not even Emma Swan whom she so devotedly hated. It wasn't – she wasn't - worth it. "No, I don't" Regina thought there was nothing else to say. So she closed down on herself, Henry's pillow to her chest like life vest. _

_Emma pulled at her hair sure of what she needed to do, unable to persuade herself not to do it. _


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

.

_Regina felt acutely alone even before Emma turned to leave her in a mansion that had never felt so cold. It was one thing to decide, but quite another to be faced with the rest of your very long life alone. Never had the prospect of a forgotten time- of not ageing or dying - seemed quite so terrifying._

.

.

The mine was the one place that hammered the point home. Regina looked at the cave where Rumplestilskin had been imprisoned when Cinderella and her prince had sentenced him with a quill.

It was the place where no magic survived, a place destined to slowly kill the will to live, leaving in its stead only a desperation that no one cared to hear.

She was pushed towards the cell carved out in the rock. And when the bars closed in, when the hands that had been pushing her left her arms, she felt the weight of all her loneliness heavy on her. She remained with her back to her jailers.

It was cowardly but she needed time to get herself together, time to get to that place in her that had allowed her to survive this far.

And when she felt sufficiently in control, she turned to them, smirk in place, chin raised high, though her eyes could not seem to focus on anything except Gold- aye, Rumplestilskin - who stood apart from the crowd as much as a master puppeteer form its stage.

It was hard to say she had never felt so alone. She had. This was all she had ever felt. She would not think of Emma or Henry now. Because that would make her weak.

"Get comfortable, Your Majesty. This will be home from now on."

.

.

_Emma called herself all variations of idiot, but she crouched before Regina. There was no way she was going to touch the Mayor. Really she wasn't. She would not deny it, there was a certain degree of abject horror and refusal of what she could only believe to be true._

"_Madam Mayor… Regina." There was no reply. Her hand grabbed Regina's shoulder. "Regina" Emma shook the woman none too gently. It pissed her off to want to help, to want so desperately not to leave a wreck in her wake. "Regina, look at me!"_

"_You're leaving." It sounded like a question. Emma nodded. "You're leaving." And then it was a sad acceptance._

"_Regina" Emma tried again to pull Regina out of the whole. "Who?" She shook her again. "Who took it?" It was impossible to accept the words coming out of her mouth. Maybe, just maybe, she would wake up and this would have been a weird dream. At worse, a coma dream. Anything but this where she felt she was losing her ever loving mind, talking about missing hearts in living people and magic and curses and witches. "Who. Took. It?"_

_Where Regina would have curled into herself and stayed well away from all the scars of that past, Emma pushed her into them. Her voice was urgent, her fingers hard on her shoulder, holding her tight in that place where she could not breathe, the place she had spent the last thirty odd years trying to escape. No, Regina thought, a heart was not worth it. It was not worth going back there_. Oh Henry!

"_Was it a witch?" Emma struggled with a Regina breaking down in front of her. It was hard to see anyone fall apart so thoroughly. But seeing Regina broken? It was obscene, like watching a cat dead on the road. There is nothing you can do, it is awful, but you cannot help but looking and studying it. And then feel disgust at yourself and your screwed up sensibilities. And there was the small matter that she knew nothing about magic or curses. She pulled at her hair once more, because what was there left to do that was useful? The sharp pain helped her concentrate. She wished she had read Harry Potter as much as she wished she had attended college. She was so not equipped to deal with this kind of reality turned on itself so far that it sounded like nothing more than fiction. "Regina!" The tone was like a slap. "Was it a witch?"_

_Regina laughed then. She had lost all semblance of control and felt herself spiralling down towards madness. But the word_ witch _was so simple a description and one so grossly inappropriate that she could not have stopped the bubble of hysteria. "A witch… yes…" the laughter was maniacal, borderline deranged. But Emma crouched before her and held her face in her hands for lack of anything more_ _effective to do and that, that light of purpose and anger in those green stormy eyes was like an anchor to her fraying self. The laughter stopped and her hands grabbed Emma's around her face. The word came in a sob: "Mother". _

_._

_._

Emma marched into the cave, her hand safely tucked into Snow's. It was so simple to feel part of something like this. The difficult part was to give it a name, such as _family._ They made their way through the old mine's corridors following the tense silence and the dust in the air.

Outside it would be daylight already, but down here, the darkness was perpetual.

"What are they doing here? I mean, why here? What's in here?" Snow stopped. "I remember this place. I mean, it doesn't make sense, because this should be… you know… back home… but this is the cave where Rumplestilskin was kept."  
"What are they going to do?"

"Emma…" The tone was pained. "The curse broke… everybody, I think, remembers. "

Emma was no fool. If half of what she'd seen in Henry's book was true, she'd be out for blood too. And that book was probably gospel.

"Is it true? The book, I mean. Is it true?"

"Yes" It gave Emma pause. So far it had been a book, a bunch of stories on paper. But now? Now it was history- and one not so far at all. She tried to reconcile The Evil Queen with Regina.

She found that it didn't come easily.

_._

_._

_To Emma it felt like an electric jolt. Was there any limit to the horror? This was like a twenty car pileup and see could not avert her eyes._

"_Your mother?" There was no reply. She squeezed her hands none too gently around Regina's face. "Your mother took your heart?" Man, she had heard some disturbing crap in her time. She had lived some of it too, but this was off the charts absurd. And yet, she found herself believing every word. Despite the little light of alarm in the back of her mind that cried for sanity and normalcy. _

_Regina's hands fell from their hold on Emma's and slowly opened her shirt. Emma fell back on her haunches. She knew her belief system, maybe even her hold on reality, were about to be shaken loose. When Regina pushed the pristine silk away from her torso, there it was, barely visible, but unmissable at the same time. Below the breast, a bruise as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. An anatomically correct shadow of a heart imprinted on the skin as precisely as if it had been in an anatomy book. If magic could have been CSI'ed, she would have given a sworn affidavit that whoever had taken that heart had been about the same height as Regina, using her right hand like a scalpel, because outside that shadow marred on otherwise perfect skin, there was nothing. More than anything, though, it was Regina's hands shaking the silk of the open blouse that clinched it. Holy hell!_

_She got up and turned on herself, a mixture of disgust and pity. Mostly, an absolute rage. At herself for fighting this woman for over a year and never realising. Anger at Regina. At whoever had done this. There was such rage in her that the only outlet was action. _

_She pulled at her jacket and left, pounding down the stairs two by two, stumbling in her haste. _

_And then she realised she had left only destruction behind and had no clue where to even start. She grunted in exasperation and went back up._

_Regina was still where she had left her, on the floor with her hands still holding her shirt open as she had no tether to reality._

_Emma went through her comprehensive list of expletives. Not a one was sufficient or adequate._

_It took an effort of coordination to slowly approach the woman on the floor. She knelt and called her name softly. She took the Regina's hands in hers and then deposited them on her sides and buttoned up the shirt with care. Details mattered and brought back some equilibrium to them both._

"_You came back."_

"_Yeah"_

_._

_._

Regina saw Emma through the crowd that stood in front of the bars holding her prisoner. She felt her even before she had seen her. There was a momentary sense of relief until she saw Emma's face. Her legs wanted to give. Despite the title, Regina had never had much that was truly hers in life. But backbone was the one thing. And that backbone kept her standing, though the mask that so infuriated others cracked and slipped if only a little. She would not sit.

She would not fall apart.

Emma's hand was firmly in Mary Margaret's. There was a pang of jealousy, slowly replaced by horror when she it became apparent that if the curse had broken, Emma knew Mary Margaret was Snow and, therefore, her mother.

She did not fall apart, but her heart grew heavy in her chest and unaccustomed to the feeling, to the sheer weight of it, she crumpled into the cot in _her_ cell.

_._

_._

"_You came back" _

_It was little more than a whisper but Emma heard amazement and relief in that sound. "I always do" She hated empty promises. So she better make good on this one. "Regina I don't know where to start" Regina looked up at her as if she had forgotten the subject. "Where do I begin looking?"_

"_You don't"_

_For a moment, Emma indulged in the thoroughly absurd hope Regina would have it in a safe at the bank or something equally prosaic._

"_Can we even get it back?" What did she know about magic? Could they get it back? Could a heart survive outside the body?_

"_No" Regina hiccupped. "There is no getting it back"_

_Emma pulled Regina up by her arms and took her to her bed. She needed someone to take care of that rag of a person while she was gone. Because one thing she knew: Regina was lying._

.

.

"_Mary, I need your help"_

"_Ok. What do you need?"_

"_Come to the Mayor's house"_

"_To help you hide the body?" Mary chuckled on the other side of the line._

"_Mary Margaret, please. She is not OK. Can you please come over?"_

"_You're joking, right?"_

"_No. Please"_

"_Why me?" It was a little bit whinny. Emma knew she would come._

"_Please hurry"._

"'_Kay. Be right there! But just know that this is going to cost you"_

"_Sure. Just hurry"_

.

.

_As soon as Mary Margaret made it through the door, Emma turned and left. She heard Mary's sarcastic remark following on her heels. "Yeah, sure just leave me here to have my head bitten off, why don't you?"_

_._

_._

Seeing the Mayor pale and stricken was sufficient to merge the Queen and Regina in one person. She would worry about a definition later, but right now the only thing that mattered was to get to the front of the crowd and reassure her.

She pushed through the mass of bodies and this time there was no holding her back. Because this time she was not alone. The silence was instant and grave.

"What do you think you're doing?" She asked no one in particular, not taking her eyes out of Regina.

"Justice."

Emma looked towards the voice, and though it hadn't been Gold to speak, she had no doubt that the words might as well have come out of his mouth.

"By whose standards?"

Gold approached her then. Snow immediately moved to stand between them.

"This is no longer your jurisdiction, Ms Swan"

"This is still Storybrook, last I checked"

"Then I suggest you verify the information, Ms Swan. The curse is no longer. We know who we are. Every single one of us"

"Somehow, I'm pretty sure you always knew who you were, _Mr Gold_" As a bluff it was pathetic and Emma knew it. She had no clue who he had been and she was not about to turn to Snow and ask. "And yet, this is still, Maine, U.S. of A and therefore, whatever justice you think you're getting, it's not going to be this way"

"Ah, yes…" Emma wanted to wipe the floor with Gold's smirk. "Be that as it may, I assure you, Sheriff, justice is ours. In our terms."

The crowd thickened by the minute with more and more people piling into the cave. There was a dangerous rumour of assent and agreement when Gold spoke.

Snow studied her daughter. There was nothing- absolutely nothing- she would not do for her child. And that included, it seemed, this.

"No. The sheriff is right. We will do this according to this world." Emma had the pleasure of seeing Gold's fire being snuffed out a little. Gone was the meek Mary Margaret. This was a whole new world, it seemed, because before Emma and the crowd stood Snow White, the fighter and, more importantly, a queen in her own right.

There were murmurs of protest, but they died when Snow simply said _Enough_ with a finality that Emma had never seen before. In anyone. "We are not back home. I think that much is abundantly clear, so we will do things as the law of this land commands"

_._

_._

_The only person she could think to help her was Henry. Who else would know anything about this? Who else wouldn't think she was certifiable? Henry was the expert. Oh god, she was screwed. _

"_Henry" She found him at the arcade. "I need help". To his credit he dropped the game and followed after her into her car. _

"_What is it?"_

"_Your mom…" How was she even supposed to word this in a way that did not make her doubt herself? "Who is her mother?" She rubbed her face waiting to wake up any minute now._

"_Don't know" was the flippant reply. _

"_Where's your book?"_

"_Why?" God, when had the kid become so unhelpful? _

_Two could play that game. And she still had plenty of childish in her to beat him at his own game. "Because."_

"_Emma…." It sounded impatient and whinny. "Ok, ok. It's at home. But it doesn't say anything about… you know_… her"

"_I need to find out Henry. She doesn't have a heart."_

"_Duh…" _

"_A proper heart, kid. Like a beating heart."  
"Just like Graham, you mean?" Realization hit her, but she had to try. "I felt Graham's heart, Henry. It was beating" All the times she had fought her son about this very same subject. "Hers isn't. There is nothing there."_

"_Only because now you believe…"  
"Oh, God, Henry, I'm so sorry! Yeah, like Graham."_

"_Why do you need her mom?"_

"_Because it was her mom that took it" That actually gave him pause_

"_Wow…"_

"_Yeah…" It felt not so crazy. It felt not so demented to talk to someone else about this. Even if it was with an eleven year old. "Where do I start?"_

"_You don't."_

"_Kid"_

"_Emma! You don't. Why would you even do that? She doesn't deserve it. And it will probably get you killed and …"  
"Kid, I have to."_

"_No you don't" He opened the car door and left, his rucksack jostling with every running step he took._

.

.

_Emma followed him after a few seconds. He was so much like her that he needed time to get a grip. Then he would be ready to talk. She found him home in his room pouring over the book. She closed the door behind her._

"_There is nothing here." He leafed though the book, inspecting details. "Nothing" and closed it with a thud. She wanted to pull all her hair out. "I suppose we could do some research"_

"_Where?"_

"_Library…"_

"_Let's go_

"_You know that it's closed down, right?"_

"_It'll be open for us. Come on!"_

_Jesus, this was the stuff, Henry thought, because all of a sudden, Emma was a believer and this was all about the action and he soaked up all the adrenaline. _

_Emma jimmied the lock and let them into the dusty old place. He would have preferred she kicked it down, but he'd settle. She started going through the tomes._

"_I don't know where to start"_

"_Well, not by the ones that everybody can get to." He said and shook his head lightly at having to state the obvious. "Can you open this cabinet?" The only reply came by way of a little key Emma kept in a hidden pocket in her pants. It did not take much to open it, but it was empty. She punched the furniture in frustration, but Henry just gave her a smirk that was pure Regina and started running his fingers through the inside of the cabinet until he stopped and tucking his tongue between his teeth something clicked. Slowly, a back panel opened and Henry found a book that looked distinctly like a Register of births, old and yellow and covered in a thick layer of dust. It was just too fitting this scene could have belonged in a slasher film where they would both end up dead at the hands of a monster. Or a dragon. Or both. Just as plausible in the current context. _

_And after the last few hours, Emma just did not want to risk it._

"_Come on, let's get out of here."_

_They did not go home. They sat in the old bug again and poured through it. It seemed to Emma that this was thoroughly useless. There were no dates she could relate to, as if the dates referred to existed in a different calendar like the Mayan or the Egyptian and she could not make it correspond to anything real. _

"_Look at this, Emma! Each entry has notes on it…"_

"_What kind of notes?"  
"Look!" He inclined the book for her to see. "Like who the person married and when they died and what children they had"_

"_Yeah, yeah, but what use does it have for us?" He did not reply, not for a long time, engrossed in his reading. And then he let out a hoot of triumph._

"_Look, Emma, look". He was looking at the entry for Henry Mills._

_She was dumfounded for a minute._

"_Look kid, this is just someone messing with your head. This cannot be your birth entry."  
"Ah, but don't be so silly. Of course not" God he sounded like Regina. "It's_ her _father's. My namesake. Geez, and I'm the kid… Look, it says here he married a Cora. And had a daughter: Regina Mills. And oh, oh, oh, I was so right!" He actually punched the book. "It says here: _Dead at the hands of his well beloved daughter_._ _See? She killed him. She killed him, Emma. I_ told _you she was evil!"_

_Emma wondered if the late Henry Mills might have been in the business of removing living hearts as well. She remained as detached as she could. She was in no hurry to jump to conclusions. Conclusions, specially the rushed kind, are like bad shoes: they look good in the shop but end up screwing your feet for longer that you'll ever think possible._

"_Emma, you're supposed to be the responsible adult here! Don't you see? She killed her dad. What do you think she's going to do to you? To me? Please, please grow up!"_

"_What does it say about her mom?" Henry closed the book in protest. "Ok, kid, listen up, because I'm about to impart wisdom here. Things aren't always clear cut. Sometimes people have screwed up reasons to do sh… stuff. And until we know or until we've walked a mile in their shoes you won't know, not for sure. So, I'm giving her the good old innocent until proven guilty."_

"_You almost said a curse word…" Emma nodded. What else could she do? "Can I say it too?"_

"_No. Your mom will for sure kill me then" Henry reopened the book and leafed through it until he found the entry for a Cora that had married a Henry Mills._

_The entry was just like all others: a neat sharp handwriting, black ink. Nothing made it remarkable. But a sense of dread filled Emma's chest, a chill ran though her body. _

_Cora Mills had been born a commoner. Married a commoner. And birthed a noble child, Regina Mills. There was no note for her death._

"_Now I'm worried" Henry's remark was laconic._

"_Only now?"_

_._

_She returned to Regina's house with Henry protesting he wanted to help on her quest. Emma objected to the word_ quest. _That implied nobility, of which she had none. She was more of a fly by the seat of her pants kind of girl. And this was no different._

_Regina slept. Mary Margaret was not a happy bunny when Emma made her appearance._

"_You never told me that she was this cra… upset" She amended when she noticed Henry._

"_Yeah, about that…. Sorry…"_

"_You're lucky you're cute. Look, I gave a little_ chill pill" _she whispered trying to exclude Henry "that I found in her medicine cabinet. Let her sleep it off. _

"_Sorry, can't. " She moved to the bed and sitting on it proceed to wake Regina up. "Regina, wake up. We need to talk."_

"_Emma, come on!" Mary tried to interrupt._

"_Regina, come on, wakie, wakie. Come now, you need to tell me. What happened to your mom?" _

_When Regina spoke she was not exactly awake, of that she was sure, but the words were as real as the shiver that coursed to Regina's listless body: "I killed her. I killed her" And she sighed in relief._

_Of one thing Emma was sure: Regina was not lying._

_Oh, crap._

_._

_._

"Maybe we should ask _her_ why, Your Majesty" Geppetto sounded like the voice of reason. "I would like to know why is that we're not back home." The noise from the crown turned threatening again. The anger and the menace crackled like a thunderstorm in the air. And this time even Snow was caught by surprise.

"Maybe you'd like to explain why you so desperately want to go back. It seems to me we do not miss much from there" David,_ correction_, James pushed through the crowd. "As long as you've found who you were missing all this time" He reached Snow and he pulled her into him, into his arms and kissed her hair. His eyes caressed Emma. "What could you possibly miss from there?

"I would like to know, nonetheless" Emma was fluent in bullshit as much as English. And this was Gold bullshitting. He was lying as sure as the sun would rise in the east. The question was why. It felt like so much more that screwing with Regina.

Emboldened by the presence of her Charming, Snow spoke again. "We will determine that. We will hold a _fair_ trial and we will met out an appropriate punishment." She shuddered inside her skin because whatever could be considered appropriate or fair if you had lost your life and your child, if you had lost as much as these people had, but she remained in control. "We will not do any of those things now while we are still so angry. We will be _fair_!"

It was like herding cats. There were remarks and protests and movement from all directions, but Snow and James were absolutely in control. And when Gold walked away, his limp forgotten and no cane in sight, Emma relaxed her guard and turned back.

Regina sat as if all fight had been taken out of her. There were no traces of the lover of an hour ago. No inkling of the bitchy mayor of the past year. Not a hint of the Evil Queen. There was only a woman caught in the surf, unable to kick for the surface and breathe.

Emma knelt on the floor. "Regina", she whispered trying not draw attention to them. "Regina, listen to me." Emma leaned against the bars that vibrated and warmed at her touch. This was all her fault. She had brought Regina a heart that weakened her and broke a curse that protected her. "Regina, I'm sorry."

In a gesture that would become as familiar to them as breathing over the next nine months, Regina covered Emma's hand with hers and leaned against the bars.

Feet shuffled and voices protested but the cave emptied. Leroy could not resist his parting shot. "There is no magic here, Your Majesty. The blood of the dwarfs saw to it. There is no escaping." The bitterness in his voice stung Emma's skin.

"I'm so sorry" She whispered to Regina.

"It's OK. Shh, it's ok".

And Emma knew: Regina was not lying.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Of the world of tight spots she had been in, this one ranked particularly high in her scale. The Mayor had just confessed to matricide and crap crap crap if she was not surprised with the inclination to add aiding and abetting to her own list of crimes. She couldn't even say that she would do it for Henry. Not when everything in her cried out in solidarity to another woman who had –probably- been through hell._

_No, this had nothing to do with Henry and all to do with Regina._

_._

_._

The cave emptied slowly as if the unfulfilled bloodlust of the people leaving created friction and resistance to their passage. Feet were dragged and eyes were cast back to the ones remaining by the bars. The air felt toxic in their wake.

Regina and Emma huddled with the bars between them. Snow and James leaned into each other in longing and need for skin comfort. Against the stone wall, Henry did his best impression of a shadow. Except that Regina was the first one to see him there, her eyes drawn to her child like a magnet.

A blush covered her face. In all the ways she had seen herself letting him down when she had first picked him up, a squirming, red bundle of desperate wailing, this was not one of them, but in the end the feeling of not being good enough was the same. She wanted nothing more than to hide from him, because he was- had been- right all along. You can fool yourself. You'd think it is impossible, but you can fool yourself. For a while, it had been the easiest thing for Regina to believe that she was not- had not been- the Queen. It was the easiest thing to do.

Now, she could do nothing but let him see her. Because she owed him that much. It told him, she hoped, with the words she had no voice left to say, _you were right all along and I'm sorry_. Sorry was such a hard word to utter. But with Emma's hand under hers she said it. "I'm sorry". She sobbed it, mumbled it, snorted it out of the depth of her general ineptitude. "I'm sorry, Henry."

_._

_._

_Emma went back to the book they had found at the library. And then to the library when the book ran out of answers. She regarded this as any other bail bonds job: you look at the details, you check the habits and the known associates and, eventually, something will shake loose. This time, though, she had more than money riding on her hunch. And she knew she would find something. That was the kind of person she was: like a blood hound, she would be at it until she found it. Trouble was, she thought, she was quite sure finding this particular prey was more than likely to be only the beginning of her problems, not the end._

_She sighed in frustration: this was not the type of place she would look for her usual prey. She was more used to scouring casinos and brothels than libraries. In fact, this might well be a first. She kicked at the dusty bookshelves in frustration. But unlike Henry, she just could not see the forest for the trees. Every book seemed to have the potential to tell her something she needed to know. And with each one she picked up, she understood the value of frustration. _

_If she were the gambling sort, she would say that the odds were pilling against her. And then Gold walked into the library, the uneven two paces and one muted thump of the cane announcing him. And she was so not in the mood to try to keep up with his games._

"_What would you be looking for, Ms Swan, I wonder, skulking around a closed down library…" His fingers ran through the librarian counter he was leaning against. He studied the dust in his slim fingers and his nonchalance was a fabrication, of that Emma was sure. _

"_None of your business, Mr Gold." The candidness of the reply threw him off, used as he was to people treading lightly around him. He recovered with a smile and she hated that about him and Regina, because to her, everything took longer and she resented them for being so fast on the recovery. Made them good players and her always at a disadvantage._

"_Well…" Gold moved towards her, "I find that I am unaccustomed to your particular brand of… manners, Ms Swan" The smile of his face was pained in a way that could only be described as a load of bull. "Perhaps, though, I could huh… assist, as it were, with anything from my shop. I like to think I can cater for every need in Storybrooke."_

"_Yeah… I sometimes wonder about that… But not in this particular occasion, Mr Gold." Emma gave him her own version of his all rounder of a smile._

_There was a moment she believed Gold was stumped as to how to proceed. Clearly he had something to say, but she had not presented him with the occasion. She had only to manipulate that to her own advantage. And hot dog, she was incapable of doing that. Manipulation was not in her list of abilities. She had always found it the territory of week people with an inability for the truth and its consequences._

_A weapon of the weak, it seemed. And though she did not think of herself as strong, she had been in the habit of surviving and rising to the occasion. Maybe it was about time to re-evaluate._

"_Say what's on your mind, Mr Gold. I don't have any time to waste on manipulative sorts" And she was out of patience to start now._

_Gold had the grace to look pained. "Ms Swan, I find that one does not get ahead in life charging straight ahead and destroying everything in one's path. What you call manipulation I would describe as… engineering an outcome."_

"_Potato, potahto…"_

_Gold smiled ruefully, as if humouring a child. "Be that as it may, Ms Swan, be that as it may… In the spirit of not wasting your time, though I would- respectfully -"Gold actually curtsied lightly " impart some information you might find useful." Emma stilled her page flipping to which she was long past paying attention. "There is nothing more to be found about Mayor Mills' family in this library. You'd be better advised to seek another source."_

"_I'd feel better about having this conversation with you if I knew what outcome you are trying to engineer…"_

"_Well, just because I decide to play by your rules, it does not mean that I need to reveal all my secrets, Ms Swan. That would be ill advised. However, I should stress that the information you need does not dwell in this place. Nor in this town." Gold crossed his hands over the head of his pretentious cane signalling the end of his wisdom impartment moment and turned on his polished shoes to leave._

"_Yeah, but why would I play into your hand? You don't strike me as the most trustworthy of Storybrooke's residents."_

"_Ms Swan, I understand the how the absence of a family will leave an individual severely lacking in social skills, so I will excuse that rather crass shot. And you may not to believe it, but, at times, our goals may cross and overlap. I believe this is one such occasion where your objective and mine are the same."_

_Emma opened herself to his intentions. He was telling the truth. The trouble with truth is that, generally, it is far too wide and if you don't ask the right question, you may be getting the wrong part of the truth. It seemed though, that surrounded by books that did not want to give her anything but dust mites, she might well take Gold's advice._

_._

_._

Henry was paralyzed. He wanted to feel happy. This was his victory. The Evil Queen stood behind bars, alone as it should be. It was his victory. He was right. He was not a basket case. So how come it felt… wrong… was _wrong_ the word he was looking for? It felt uncomfortable, like a half truth. It certainly did not feel like a victory. And less and less so every time _she_ said sorry and less cozy with each sob. He stood against the wall as if it could provide him with solace and answers.

In the end, Henry thought that being a kid was at his advantage now: he ran home though it quickly dawned on him that he wasn't quite sure where home was anymore. For better or worse- generally for worse, he used to think- it was with Regina. He stopped at the cross roads in Main Street and just stood there, with his hands hanging by his side, unable to make a simple decision: go right or go left

.

.

_The only person outside town limits was Jefferson. The mere geography of it made her question why Gold wanted to actually go there. Or how Jefferson could tell her who Regina's mother was or, better yet, where Regina's mother was. Of course, she hoped against hope for something like "the woman that owns the bakery on Main" or "the woman with the pink Cadillac", but that was not only unlikely, but ridiculous as hopes went because Regina, put mildly, did not look like she could cope with the notion of the woman, let alone face her existence. "I killed her" were words still reverberating in her bones and giving her skin goose bumps. For a moment she considered going back to the mansion and get her answers come rain or high water, but the half-baked plan fizzled out as she thought of Regina at her worst. She would rather not deal with that at the moment, because this is where she was a coward: other people's emotions and woes, their needs and sorrows. Like a shark, Emma moved forward. It was not prime detecting, it was not her best work and mind you, she had never been concerned with elegance and grace, only with results. She moved forward. She drove to Jefferson._

_She wondered what he could tell her, pondered what she could ask him. He had seemed thoroughly unbalanced. But, back then, she had been committed to disbelief. Back then, Henry had been a troubled kid, Graham had had a heart and everything else was just a town. _

_Sooner than she imagined she was at Jefferson's. It wouldn't do anyone any good to just delay the inevitable by sitting in her car. Still unsure of what to ask, she knocked on his door that opened without a creak at the touch of her knuckles. Unfazed, Jefferson called out to her from a room._

"_Join me in the parlour, Sheriff" Hell, the man had a parlour to go with his crazed mind._

"_Join us for tea, Sheriff" He motioned to the stuffed toys around the table in high chairs like children. Emma ground her teeth._

"_No, thanks."_

"_Do my friends concern you, Sheriff?"_

"_No, actually. Your choice of tea does, though."_

"_Ah, holding a grudge, I see."_

"_No, not at all." She moved into the room studying it for possible emergency exits and weapons and trying for nonchalance. "You really should keep your doors closed. Anyone can come in, you know…"_

"_Ah, Ms Swan, no, not really. No one can come out of Storybrooke and I am still within the town limits that no one can come in… But friendly advice is not why you're here. Nor to arrest me…" He sat and took a dainty porcelain cup in his hand. He studied the flowery detail as if he'd never seen it before. "No, you're here for something else. You're here- and stop me if I'm wrong- because you've run out of answers in town."_

_The time for surprises was gone. The sooner she started rolling with the strange world Storybrooke was, the better. You stand a better chance of keeping your balance if you stop resisting the motion._

_She sat next to Jefferson. It was a bad joke but all the cookies in the tea set said _EAT ME_ and there were what she assumed to be cucumber sandwiches. "Ok, then. I want you to take me to Cora Mills". It was the only formulation she could think would cover any eventuality, would leave nothing to chance._

_His hands shook. "Ah, well, if that is all you want, Sheriff…"_

"_Do you know her?"_

"_You should be asking if there is magic enough to take you there. Or if I want to take you there." His eyes closed and the sigh was sad. "I'm all out of magic, Ms Swan. As you should know."_

"_No, not really I don't. I'm still not sure I understand what you needed from me when you kidnapped me"_

"_Those who do not believe in magic will never find it, Ms Swan."_

"_So what will you have me do, Jefferson? Click my red heels and say there is no place like home?"_

"_Home is over rated, Sheriff"_

"_You're full of platitudes today, Jefferson"_

"_Even hand-me-down ideas are sometimes truths, Ms Swan." Then he stood and moved through the room holding his head as if he was afraid it might fall off of him. "Need is a great motivator, don't you think?" It sounded like a threat, but the set of his shoulders, slightly slumped in discouragement told her it was a statement, neither good nor bad. He opened the door to his hat room. "Make yourself at home"_

_It was perhaps an inevitability that she should find herself in this room again and try against all she knew to make magic. There was no magic in her, no fairy godmother and she was hopeless at the whole arts and crafts thing. But she had a whole lot of black cloth and not much of anything else besides Regina's big empty eyes in the back of her mind. For whatever reason, she felt a compulsion to help, something that just was, despite herself. She wished she could fill that emptiness. She hoped because she had decided that all she had learnt in the "real world" so far was an ill fit here. So Emma started with hope. If hope was a ridiculous prop in Boston or New York or Huston, that's where she would start here. Sometimes, you need to break all the bones in your head to think in a different way and hope was all she could think of._

_Hope __can be a powerful force. Maybe there's no actual magic in it, but when you know what you hope for the most and hold it like a light within you, you can make things happen, almost like magic._

_Emma took a ratty old hat, something ugly and frayed and she held in her hands and thought of how much Henry need Regina because, let's face, what did she know about parenting and that Regina needed a new reality, a heart, a smile, a kindness. She took the frayed old hat and a needle and took to mending it, and even though she didn't know the first thing about pins and needles, she knew a desperate soul when she saw one. And Regina, Henry and even Jefferson were all waiting for a miracle she was hell bent on delivering._

_._

_._

Emma chocked on the notion that she had brought all of this raining down on Regina. Doing the right thing, bringing her back her heart had caused the curse to break, of that she was sure. And yeah, sure, this was a grave dug with Regina's own hands, there was no ignoring it, but ultimately, had she left it well alone, had she not been poking a bear with a very short stick, the curse would have remained intact. Regina had paid for her act of kindness. She wanted to cry and wail for Regina and for Henry and the innocence lost that day, but those were not her tears to cry. She owed Regina some decorum. Hell, she owed her somewhere to draw strength from. "Can we open these?" Mary Margaret's gaze was desolate. She merely lowered her eyes. "Please… Mom" The words felt extracted from her throat as if with a fire poker. They left a bad taste in her mouth because she was pulling the _Mom_ card as a trump and she hated herself for it, but Regina's tears were now silent but sliding through her fingers and making her hold on her slippery.

Snow fell to her knees and tried to hold Emma to her because there was no amount of pain she would not spare her daughter but this was beyond her. In the end, it was Regina who spoke.  
"She can't, Emma. There is no key."

"What do you mean _there is no key_? Of course there is a key."

"It's a magic prison, Emma. There is no key." James knelt by the bars, his hand on Emma's shoulder, trying to pacify her. And he wasn't telling her the truth, not all of it anyway.

"Magic… what kind of magic? Do you mean it opens by magic or there's a beam-me-up-Scotty kind of lock?"

"It …huh… it stops magic happening here." James voice was so calm and reasonable Emma wanted to smack it out him. "It drains it out of the… huh… prisoner." Emma felt bile rise in her throat. There was more. She looked from Regina to Snow to James. There was more. "It does not open."

Emma struggled with the very idea. "So how did they get her in here? Who built this? Who was the twisted sicko that built this?"

"Emma," James' tone was entirely too reasonable. "Rumplestilskin… well, we built it for him…" It was that one word, the _we_ so well hidden among all the other words that cracked Emma.

"_We_? You mean that you had a part in this… hellhole?" The anger vibrated in each of her veins, in each of the cells, in her skin and Emma felt like she was barely holding on to reality. "Who's _we_? You and who else?"

"Emma, you need to understand, sweetheart… Rumplestilskin was such a great threat… this was built to… contain him." Again with the voice of reason.

"Because killing him would be too good for him?"  
"Because good people do not kill other people…" James believed what he said. She could see it in the earnest way he regarded her, no malice or undertones in his reply. And that was the only thing that mollified her.

One thing Emma had learnt from an early age with each family that took her back because it was "for the best": that good intentions are the paving stones of hell. "No, you just leave them to die on their own, locked in a cage, trial and jury be damned." The anger subsided as if words were a pressure valve letting off steam. "So how did he get out?"

That gave them pause, Snow, James and Regina.

"The curse…" Snow ventured.

"But how?" James had his hands on Snow as if he could not stand to lose the contact, as if it grounded him to this new reality. "Regina?"

If Emma had been compiling a list of all the things she admired about Regina her ability to overcome herself would probably rank top five. "Sidney was released from the mirror…"

"Did you choose to release him?" God it would have been so easy to start collecting brownie points, but she could see her heart in Emma's hands and that made it so damned difficult.

"No. Not really. He was just there when… when we… woke up. Gold too"

"Gold?"

"Rumplestilskin"

"So you didn't know the curse would have this effect?"

Regina sought Emma's eyes. "I wasn't thinking much about details. I just wanted it to stop hurting."

"So when you designed the curse…" Snow's voice broke a little. "You didn't care about…" How could she even complete the sentence? She stumbled for anything to say, for an answer she could get, an explanation, something to make sense of the last almost 29 years. She came up short, because she did not want to start the blaming game. She remembered still her part in the change Regina had gone through.

"I did not design the curse" It seemed to Emma that there was shame in Regina's words as if she was confessing to a great incapacity or flaw. "Rumplestilskin did."

Emma did not get the implications. Not really. She had not, after all, know what Rumplestilskin was capable of, she had not lived in fear of him and his power. But Snow and James did. "Oh God!"

"What did he ask in return?" Snow's voice was urgent and it shook under the weight of what might be said there."

"Nothing. He didn't want anything"

"He just gave you something? Without a price?"

_._

_._

_During the night, Jefferson looked at her hands, at the hat turning in her hands. Need was the greatest of motivators. It just turned out that the first time he had brought the Savior here he had banked on the wrong kind of need. There was something new about the Sheriff, some new purpose. He could feel it in his bones, in his stomach, from the balls of his feet to the crown of his head: there was magic in that hat. And much as it pained him to know it, magic he could not access because all that was in him, all the magic he had once had, was wrapped in Grace, tightly. There was nothing left for him to use._

_The hat came to life in her hands. It was the only explanation, nothing else would do. It was the magic of life and hope and it felt at home in her hands. She looked at Jefferson, something between a grimace and a smile in her features. A knowing deep in her flesh and bones that she did not belong to this, but desperately wanting to._

"_That will do, Ms Swan. That will do just fine". And there was incredible sadness in his eyes. "Now off you go, the day's a wasting"_

.

.

Since the moment Regina had heard of Snow's pregnancy, she had been beyond all reason. A child was the ultimate happy ending, one that was to be forever denied to her. The pain had been maddening. She had wanted to scream and wail, tear her hair out, destroy everything within her reach. But as usual, she was her mother's child, and only silence came out of her. Between the scream inside and the silence outside, something broke then, fractured beyond repair.

She did not question it when Cora offered, in the sweetest words, to make the pain go away. She did not second guess when Rumplestilskin gave her the key to cast the curse. She cared nothing about his one request. She had not believed that he would remember when he himself had designed the curse to forget. She had thought of nothing but of feeling something other than pain.

"I was a fool" And because she now had a heart to feel it with, all the misery became present instead of past, crushed her, made it impossible to breathe, to let the air out of her lungs, making them too full, to the breaking point. But pain is strange. A cat killing a bird, a car accident, a fire... Pain arrives, and there it is, it crushes you. It's real. And to anybody watching, you look foolish at best. Weak. And there is nothing you can do, there is no cure- safe ripping the very heart out of your body. Unless there is someone who understands how you feel. And reaches out a hand to help.

Back then, there had been no one.

"Chin up, Madam Mayor. Hindsight is 20/20." Emma gave her a smile that could not be real, because they were in a mine, separated by magic bars that were never going to open with a town that wanted nothing but to kill her or leave her here to rot, whichever one was worse.

"And you cannot ride a horse backwards and still hold its reins." Snow did not quite smile, but warmth rolled out of her.

"We'll figure it out." Regina had never noticed it before, but David's- well, James's- smile was just like Emma's: open and frank, nothing hiding behind except, sometimes, hope and need. She had never seen a smile like that except in Henry.

"Make no mistake, though, Regina" Snow rose and stood, Regina effectively on her knees at her feet. "This we'll do for Emma. Because for some reason I cannot fathom, she believes that you deserve better than this and she is willing to risk everything to make it happen. But if you disappoint her, if you hurt my child in any way…"

It was a new experience for Regina to respect Snow. But she understood, being a mother herself, even if to a reluctant son, that a mother will do anything to protect her child. That there is nothing a mother will not do. She was just not quite sure she would include forgiving in the things she would do for her child.

When Regina slept, unsure of whether it was day or night having lost all sense of time elapsing, it was with a heart beating inside her chest, full of fear and self loading for how low she had allowed herself to get, manipulated by a mother that should have cherished her and by a man that should not have beaten her at her own game. But there was no loneliness, because across the bars, sleeping on the floor with her, was Emma. Emma of the misfit smile, Emma of the open heart. Emma of the devastated childhood that had not shaped her into an ugly excuse for a woman. Emma whose hand was still in hers saying _I'm here. I don't care how angry you were or how you've destroyed my life or if you need to cry, I will stay with you. _Saying, quite possibly, _I love you. There's nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you_. And the kick in the teeth was that… that goodness, that forgiveness did not spell out weakness. It was what made Emma so strong, so capable of destroying her loneliness curse. What made Emma her knight, her savior as much as she was Storybrooke's.

That spell of sleep, Regina did not fear death or prison or being left alone behind these bars. She dreamt of two tiny little feet stretching the skin on her taught belly, two perfect little feet dancing to the rhythm of her heart. And that was happiness.


	5. Chapter 4

Previously:

_The hat came to life in her hands. It was the only explanation, nothing else would do. It was the magic of life and hope and it felt at home in her hands. She looked at Jefferson, something between a grimace and a smile in her features. A knowing deep in her flesh and bones that she did not belong to this, but desperately wanting to._

"_That will do, Ms Swan. That will do just fine". And there was incredible sadness in his eyes. "Now off you go, the day's a wasting"_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Emma panicked a little and she was not too proud to admit it. She had a magic hat in her hands and no clue what to do with it. Were you supposed to wear it? Jefferson had not shared the particulars when he had told her his tale of woe. Nor had she been paying attention if he had.

"What do I do? How do you operate this thing?"

"You don't 'operate' it, Ms Swan, it is not heavy machinery." Jefferson took the hat in his hand and felt the soft waves of magic exuding from it. As a hat it was ugly and rudimentary. As magic, as a portal? It was exquisite. "What does it want you to do?"

Emma's patience wore thin when she was unsure or scared. "It's a hat, Jefferson." She was spoiling for fight because at least that she knew how to do well, but Jefferson did not indulge her and simply gave a condescending smile tempered by sadness which defused her. "I don't know."

"Then I can't help you." It was so final as a statement she tossed the hat on the floor just so that she could have her hands free to better pummel him into a bloody pulp, but as soon as it hit the floor, the hat did a curious little spin like a topple, except it did not stop and it picked up speed and soon it was a blur of movement and through it she could see light seeping through. Jefferson smiled and it was a sad smile. He bowed to her. "This is you, Sheriff"

"Where does this go?" She grabbed him then by the lapels of his military cut coat.

"Where you need to go. It will take you where you need to go."

There was a moment of hesitation. Even Emma had preservation instincts. "Have you been there before?" Jefferson merely pulled at the scarf around his neck and showed her his incongruent scar. "Please, you need to help me." He pulled the scarf back into place with sad fingers.  
"Sheriff, don't take this the wrong way, but I would not take a breath if it favored Regina in the slightest."

"And me?"

Jefferson studied her for a moment. He had no reason to help or hinder Emma. "Don't eat. Don't drink. You'll know what you're looking for when you get there. You'll feel the pull. And leave anything you feel here. Don't go in there carrying any feelings with you. It will weaken you… Make you lose your head…" And then Jefferson was no longer there, his eyes were wild and tortured.

Emma braced herself. She was not a coward and she did not fear going in alone. Much. But there was an urgency that would not be denied. "HELP ME, Jefferson. Not Regina."

"An eye for an eye, Sheriff."

"And everybody ends up blind." Emma held his face in her hands and tried to get through the man. "Please!"

"She took my Grace. She took my Grace. The best I can wish for her is a quick death…"

She could have pushed him into the hat. If nothing happened, she didn't need to worry, and if they went through that thing, she would probably have bigger problems to worry about, but some things you just do not do. And yet, she found herself making him a promise she could not keep- which was fighting dirty and did not sit quite right in her. "I'll make her give Grace back to you."

It was a mistake, Jefferson knew. He had been here before, with Regina promising things and then leaving him behind where he was helpless. This time would probably be no different. The Sheriff would probably leave him behind but he had to try. He had to. There was nothing that he would not risk to get Grace back.

"I will not leave you behind. Trust me, Jefferson. We both go in and we both come back out. No one stays behind. I swear it to you."

It didn't matter, in the end, because sometimes you walk into hell with your eyes wide open- or wide shut if you're coward as he himself was. But you didn't have to be stupid about it. He opened the cupboard under the shelved hats and retrieved the small vial he hadn't though about in almost 30 years for lack of where to use it. Some magic was just too dangerous and unpredictable to unleash in this magicless world.

"It doesn't matter, Sheriff." He regarded Emma has he tucked the vial carefully in his breast pocket. "A father does what he has to do." And with that he grabbed her hand and moved them into the vortex of the hat. It was like being pulled into the eye of a hurricane and her body felt like it was going to disassemble. Until it all stopped and it seemed like time had pulled back and then catapulted her forward and it gave her a dizzying sensation. They landed- or stopped or whatever it was that had happened no longer was in Jefferson's living room. They were in a garden, ruthlessly manicured of trimmed hedges and mathematically distributed red roses. Emma took a second to try to get her bearings though, unsure of where to go, she could hardly make an informed decision. She looked at the hat and there it was, quietly innocent in the grass.

It was like every color was in high definition, the grass of a sharp green, the roses of a suffocating red and the sky of an infinite blue she couldn't have even imagined existed in real life. It felt as if she had been experiencing the word through an amplifying lens, everything so sharp it hurt her eyes.

Jefferson stood next to her frozen in place. If she'd had time, her heart would have broken because she had forced him into this. Clearly, whatever this place was, it terrified Jefferson in a way akin to what it did to Regina. But there was no time for heartbreak. Time was absolutely of the essence. She pulled on his sleeve and forced him to look at her.

"Jefferson, we need to go." He nodded in agreement but did not move. "Jefferson!" Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the second indication that she was no longer in Maine. "I guess we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto." Perched in a mushroom, a caterpillar smoked a nargile pipe and puffed smoke lazily (or stonedly, quite possibly) into the sky. She approached the caterpillar- as you do in dreams- unsure of what to expect of a nargile smoking caterpillar. Had Emma had anyone to read bedtime stories when she was a child, she could have perhaps been able to process this in a different way. She could have perhaps avoided approaching a stoned nargile smoking caterpillar that was roughly the size of her bug.

When Emma had made believe it was never about princesses, dragons or talking animals nor even aliens. It had always been about how dad was perhaps the inventor of a time machine or how mom wove flying carpets, but those flights of fancy had dried up with each new family. She was not prepared for anything that was not the stark reality she carved out for herself, so it may have been the enticing smoke rising from the pipe or just the absurd of the situation or it may have been the simply stunning red of the mushroom but she walked towards the cloud of smoke dragging Jefferson behind her.

It did not feel like a mistake, not then anyway. And after a few seconds of studying the caterpillar, it spoke. It spoke with an Alan Rickman voice, a low drawl with an English accent. In the beginning it did not quite make sense, it was like hearing a foreign language, but as the smoke got denser and more intense smelling, the words began to make sense. And the caterpillar was speaking to Jefferson.

"Hatter, you came back. Did you miss us? I can't say that I'm not surprised." One more cloud of smoke mushroomed in the air. No wisp of wind dissipated it. "How was it that you left?" Jefferson took the hat from where it rested harmless now. He placed it on Emma's head with a tap on the flat top.

"Let's go"

"Be of a care, Hatter. She is not ever so pleased you left without so much a _by your leave_." Jefferson pulled Emma who had stopped feeling any urgency in the task at hand. Jefferson forced a brisk walk towards more and more green, as if the whole world had become a sea of bushes and grass with nothing to relieve the _greenness _but the red of the mathematical roses.

"Take a deep breath, Sheriff, the fog will wear out soon enough. Did you pack your weapon?" But Emma was in a state of bliss where nothing mattered except that she had never felt so _unworried_, so _untired_, so _unconcerned_ and she wanted to make it last. "Deep breath, Ms Swan. You must clear your head."

"What does he… it…. he mean by that?"

"Not important. Did you bring your weapon?" With each step they took, Emma's sense of well being dissipated and her head cleared. She patted her hip holster. "Yep!"

"Good. Use it if you feel the need. Don't hesitate. When in doubt, just shoot."  
"It's not like I wouldn't do it, you know…" Jefferson actually stopped.

"Ms Swan, this may come as a surprise to you, but you are not the type to just shoot and damn the consequences, otherwise you would have just pushed me through the hat" Emma actually flinched at the mention of the hat. This magic thing was going to take some getting used to, but as she started to feel the need to get with the program, she saved the snarky remarks.

"What's that in your pocket?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Emma did a quick step and stood in front of him effectively blocking the passage. He hadn't even had the chance to see it coming and Emma already had the vial in her hand. Jefferson made a desperate grab for it that only made Emma more committed to keep it out of his reach. In the end, Jefferson was a gentleman. "Please, Ms Swan."

Emma almost relented. Where she had learnt the pocket picking skill, no one would have asked politely for its return.

"What's in it, Jefferson? Or should I say 'Hatter'?"

"It's a weapon. You have your gun. I have… that." Emma turned it in her hand, studying it carefully. She was going to regret asking, but she did it anyway.

"Is it magic?"

"Yes."

She was right: she regretted asking. "Was that so hard?" She placed it back in his pocket with the same brevity of motion and lightness of fingers with which she had first removed it. She wanted to lighten the mood because she felt sorry for the man. He had eyes almost as empty as Regina's, as if they had lived through the same heartbreaks.

"Don't touch it without my permission. It holds great power."

Jesus, so many phallic jokes, so little time. "Well, there goes my plan for selling it on eBay,"  
"Selling it where?"  
Emma sighed dramatically. "A magical place of great power." It seemed fitting, what with them travelling through hats and talking to nargile smoking caterpillars. "Come on, Hatter, the day is a wasting."

.

Her spine tingled as if trouble had arrived but not yet announced itself. They had arrived at a wall made entirely of bushes, high as the outer wall of a castle. A gap in the greenery the size of a door stood invitingly. Obviously, Emma's first instinct was to charge straight ahead.

Jefferson held her back with one hand. "If you go in, there is no turning back. She knows we're here already. She knows everything, at all times. There are no surprises for her. But we can still leave." He looked at the hat perched on her head. No one will think less of you."

What chilled Emma was not what had been said, but the look of pure torment in Jefferson's gaze which told her, more than anything, that they might well be entering his version of hell.

"What am I going to find in there? Who is 'She'?"

"The one who has what you've been looking for."

"Regina's heart…"

"If you're sure it ever existed."

Emma had no evidence at all. But such was the nature of faith. "I am." It was said to reassure Jefferson as much as herself. Jefferson pulled her to the ground and sat beside her.

"This is the kingdom of the Queen of Hearts." It sounded nice. How bad could it be? Better than _The Evil Queen._ But somehow, Emma reasoned, The Evil Queen might not hold a candle to this one. "There is a room which is the heart of her kingdom. What you are looking for is there."

"Sounds simple enough."

"The difficulty is not going in." _OK. OK._ That should save half the trouble, Emma cheered herself up.

Sure enough, it presented no challenge getting into something akin to the crypt Regina kept her father's remains in. The way was all but laid out in a red carpet. The bushes made corridors and polished black tiles paved it smooth and clean as if dust did not exist in this place. There was nothing and no one stopping them from moving about freely in it but she could not shake the sensation- not that she was being watched- but that her movements, her whereabouts, her _intentions_ were known as well as she knew them herself. She could not hide or avoid.

She hadn't been quite sure of what to expect when she walked into the room. Perhaps a sudden difference in temperature at the very least, like what you get when you go into a cemetery. But there was nothing. Not a feeling, not a smell, not a sound. As if nothing was quite real. The clean feel and look of the place made her want to roll around in mud just to counteract the effect of the extreme polish of every surface.

Jefferson pulled her back into herself. "Do you know where's the one you are looking for?" _Is there more than one?_ Emma stared wildly at the walls of cubby holes. This was a lot like a cemetery, but of hopes and loves and dreams. This was, judging by the sheer number of cubby holes, where all love came to die.

"No." It took physical effort to approach the wall as if her own horror was pushing her away from it. Her brow was pearled with sweat. She hoped for name tags on the compartments, or at least in Regina's one, but there was nothing. She supposed it would have been too easy. But there were hundreds of boxes placed geometrically. Unidentifiable.

"We'll take them all." _How? And then what?_ But she honestly could think of nothing else except for the laughter at the back of her mind, a mocking _non sound_ that seemed to tell her how hopeless that course of action actually was.

"This is not a cash and carry, Sheriff. You need to get the one you came for. You cannot leave this place until you do. The impossible part is to leave."

Emma felt sick now. Like she was going to throw up at any time, the bile churning in her stomach and her upper lip sweating cold. She walked closer to the wall, her hand running through the marble partitions. How could she leave any of these behind? She had no idea what was so bad about this place, about the queen of hearts. Some of these hearts could have been volunteered for all she knew. Regina had. People had all sorts of reasons for not wanting a heart. But it seemed obscene to leave them here, in a place that felt like the end of all hope. It broke her heart. But she had come for Regina. She had come because, even though she did not understand why, she was drawn to her. Felt a compulsion to make her smile. To make it better. And then a box slid out of the hole it was in and stopped in Emma's hand. The laughter in the backdrop of her mind stopped then. The absence of that non sound was unnerving. As if all the fire alarms in the whole world had gone off at the same time. Trouble had arrived.

Jefferson touched the breast pocket of his coat seeking reassurance. Emma palmed the box, which was too large to fit in any of her pockets. She opened it, a compulsion, even though the need to run and get out was now an almost physical pain. Inside, something much like a stone rested in the wood box, gray and lifeless. How could this be a heart? She pocked at it with her finger, horrified and mesmerized and then she was sure: it was a heart because as sure as the tides, it pulsed against her finger. It pulsed cold and dry, dusty and week, but it pulsed. She touched it again and the heart pulsed again, red embers strengthening against the stony outside.

Behind her, Jefferson chocked out a scream and feet shuffled outside, heavy and menacing. She closed the lid on the box and held it against her own heart, feeling the pulsing inside, drawing something from it that only later she would have described as courage. She palmed her gun and moved towards Jefferson.

"The Queen?" Emma feared Jefferson would freeze on her again. "How did you get out of here the first time?" The steps were growing ever closer, slowly, steady and deafening. She had to yell to make herself heard.

"I don't know." No one would hold any expletives against her then. She drew her gun and held the box tighter in her hand, but when the crypt would have filled with shuffling feet, she felt like she was at the eye of the hurricane: everything stopped and she was pulled as if by invisible fingers and her body was seized by a force that squeezed and squashed her until all air had come out of her lungs. She lost the fight to stay conscious.

.

She regained consciousness held 3 feet above the floor but no longer in the crypt. She was in a throne room and this she knew not because anyone had told her but because she was staring at a woman sitting on a throne. The binds that held her were tight enough that she could not move and draw only short shallow breaths. The non sound was back. It was a mean laughter, filled with glee and threat. Jefferson was in the same position, held above the floor by invisible binds, but his head was slumped over his shoulder, his expression contorted in agony.

When the queen spoke it was inside her head. There was no sound in the room. _I don't like to be taken advantage of, Emma Swan._ Emma shivered. She knew in her heart that the fact that the queen knew her name gave her power, a power that you could not measure in anything else but the capacity for evil. This was not good. _Why do you need that pathetic old thing?_ She remembered it then, Jefferson's words. And she closed her heart, her mind. She thought of nothing and no one. She cleared everything from herself. _Oh, you are a smart one, aren't you? Industrious, too. I like that._

Emma was not a high concept girl, so she simply said, out loud "Screw you!" The vise around her tightened then, slowly, in circles like giant snakes in bad films, starting at her feet and squeezing the life out of her. Her fight for consciousness was lost.

.

_I want it back, Emma Swan. I want my box back. I do not tolerate thievery. _There was not a millimeter for Emma to move, nor to fill her lungs or to empty them. Her body was ready to give up, seemingly expanding in little explosions at each of the extremities, at each of her cells. With the last possible movement of her brain, she clung tighter to the box containing Regina's heart. The Queen would have to pry it from her cold dead fingers.

The Queen's voice inside her head was a shout of victory. _Ah, Regina's heart! Tell, me Ms Swan, did you perchance think that she would thank you for this fool's errand?_ The suffocating hold on Emma's body eased a fraction allowing her a breath before it squeezed again. It became a rhythmic motion, squeeze and release, squeeze and release. Possibly made to keep her alive, to prolong the torture. _But you must tell me. What did Regina promise you? Did she tell you that you'd never get out of here live?_

It was the way the woman- the thing, really, because there was no face, just a veil- repeated Regina's name. Like she owned it and could use it in whatever fashion she wanted. It gave Emma the certainty that she had used the person as she used the name now, to wound and penalize. To hurt. She flinched. She couldn't help herself and the movement wasn't physical because the binds would not give a fraction of an inch, but her heart flinched. The Queen needed nothing else to feel the victory. _Ah, look at that, my daughter got herself a champion. Did she promise you her heart?_ Emma tightened her hold. The tone was the sickly sweet tone of Regina's threats. _Because, you see, it isn't worth the box it is in._

The squeeze and release motion continued as if the queen had forgotten all about her. It seemed she had found a new play thing in Jefferson. Like a cat with a yarn ball, the Queen played with the suspended body. His head lolled with the pendulum motion she had going on. It was gratuitously cruel because she seemed to want nothing from him but his agonized cries of pain. The non laugh remained in Emma's mind, as clear as if it had been carried by air.

_However did you leave my house, Hatter?_ There was a whispering quality to the voice inside Emma's head. There was no shrill voice or maniacal laughter. Emma was no expert in fairy tales but weren't villains supposed to have an evil cackle so that they announced their intentions ahead of the game?

Cora Mills looked like a harmless doll, propped immobile in her throne, with the opaque veil hiding her features. And yet, Emma felt not just the life leaving her body, but the hope too- of escaping, of surviving, of ever being so much as able to smile. With each squeeze, it was like she was being drained of her vital force, of all that made her a valid human being, of all the good memories that stitched together what she was after her life so far, leaving only the misery.

Cora Mills, the Queen of Hearts, was killing her starting from the inside, like a poison.

Except, she decided, she was not going to die here, she was not going to give the Queen what she wanted. Hell would freeze over first.

She opened herself then. It was a stupid move because it looked a lot like giving up, but she opened herself to Henry and Regina, to Mary Margaret and David, to the possibility that all along she had been loved. She opened herself to the magic with which she had made a ratty old hat bring her here. That got the Queen's full attention. She released Jefferson who slumped to the floor like an old rag.

Emma fought the invisible binds. She expanded her chest taking a lungful of air. She wiggled her toes, testing them out and then her fingers and then her neck. It was like trying to move, she imagined, in a pool quick sand, each movement dragging her further down, each costing her her last ounce of energy. But she had magic. Need was the greatest of the motivators. She had magic and she was going to fight magic with magic.

The response was immediate. The binds tightened more and more and guards surrounded her as if they too heard her voice inside their heads, her command to Emma clear: _Give in._

"What's wrong, Your Highness, afraid I might succeed?" The guards tightened the ring around her still suspended form. The Queen changed tactics then. The binds relented only to be replaced by crippling pain, as if each bone in her body was breaking. Probably it was. But she refused to believe. Penn & Teller would tell you magic is just a slight of hand. A willingness to believe. And she wouldn't. She would not believe she would die in pain. Not here and not now, not holding on a box with a beating heart inside. She had made a promise and she dam well was going to keep it. She had fought the binds and she was fighting the pain. Inch by inch, she released her body of it. Inch by inch she reclaimed possession over her body, her perceptions.

_Extraordinary, Emma Swan. Extraordinary. May I say this: I wish I had birthed you instead of the weakling I nursed and raised. She used to beg, you know?_ The voice was smooth, inviting. So alluring. It was all that Emma had wanted to hear when she had grown up alone and unwanted. _Not a moment of training and look at what you can do._ The words were a caress, but the pain did not subside to match the cruel tenderness in the voice. _Ah the things we could do, you and I, Emma Swan_.

"Fuck you!" Emma grunted out.

And that broke the spell. The pain ended as it had begun, without preamble. The Queen lifted from her throne. It was not a walk, it was a sliding or a levitation, whatever the word was, but she was in Emma's space in a blink.

_Give me the heart, dear. You have no use for that. And I am not mad. I promise_. It was such a sweet cajoling tone. It made you want to do anything it required you to do. Even after the pain, you wanted nothing but to please it.

Emma stood, ready to fall again. "Come and get it." The sound in her head became a hiss. It was threatening and dangerous, but it went a long way to give Emma a semblance of control. She tightened her fingers around the box, because her whole body hurt and she was shaking and there wasn't much more she had the strength to do but to keep standing and to keep holding on_. Give it to me, Emma Swan._

Emma's eye caught Jefferson moving on the floor beyond the ring of guards surrounding her. Hope began as a pulse of light, a reflection of the vial Jefferson was painfully removing from his breast pocket. And hope fanned out into a flame when neither the Queen nor her guards made a move to take the box from her.

"No. And if that's all, it's getting a bit late and need I to get going." She wanted to turn on her heal and walk out but Jefferson was not yet up and she had promised him that she would not leave him behind.

_That box and its contents are my property, Emma Swan. I will have it back now_. The sweet tone compelled her to do it, to just release the box and hand it over. Her muscles strained to execute the command.

"No". It was like a realization of sorts. Cora's tone was sweet and enticing, a honey trap all on its own because she could not take it from her any other way. It was a flash of inspiration she did not often feel. Usually she felt bowled over by events, but it was like she knew, at that very moment, what was the worst that could happen and was prepared for it. "No. I don't think you can't take it from me. Why is that, _Cora Mills_? Is it because I must be willing to give it to you?" Emma was a good reader of body language, of expressions. Cora's was stiff even hidden behind the body long veil. Emma read her nonetheless. There was nothing but absolute hatred. It chilled her to the marrow of her bones.

But Jefferson was now on his feet and if that was not a signal from her to get going, she would have to come back for him, but she turned on her heel with what little movement she could still command, not without a final "By your leave, Highness" that was her version of an extended middle finger which she was pretty sure Cora Mills would not have understood fully.

The guards did not open their circle as she had expected them to do. She'd had a silly little hope that they might part ranks to offer her the way out, but she was corrected of her misconception soon enough. The Queen might not be able to remove the box from her fingers, but she could command the guards to kill her. And she did not hesitate to give the command. _Off with her head._

.

Survival instinct is what bridges humans with wild beasts. When cornered, an animal or a human, by that matter, will fight. It is what fuels that instinct that provides the gap: whilst animals fear not surviving, humans conceive of something worse than death: loss. It was not death that Emma feared- though she did. It was the meaning of this particular failure. Her hand reached out for her weapon, her finger gripped the trigger and she fired as if the bullets would not run out. It would not have been enough, in the end, even if she'd wielded an automatic weapon. Not when those who fall are replaced tenfold by advancing bodies behind them, not when their swords advanced on her and left gashes running down her shoulders and arms and severed pieces of her hair. No, a weapon would not have been enough, not here, not in this kingdom where all hope came to die.

When the chamber of the weapon was empty, she turned it and used it to defend whatever she could of the blind advance of the guards. She did not mean to give up, but holding on was a matter of losing by increments. And then Jefferson was behind the Queen and the vial was in his hand and, alerted by a sixth sense or a magic sense, the Queen turned to Jefferson binding him again.

Emma thought of her promises and how it had come to it that she would die keeping them and that, in the end, that would mean nothing. She charged the Queen because at least she could give Jefferson a fighting chance. Something like an invisible barrier stood between them, the malicious intent permeating through it, like a certainty of victory.

Bound as he was, Jefferson spilled whatever liquid or dust or air or whatever it was in that vial and the Queen paralyzed, all movement arrested. The guards stopped then, like a beast without its head, except there was no movement, no chaos, no sound. They just stopped, exactly as she had. Swords collapsed on the floor, the clattering like thunder.

Around Emma, the Queen of Hearts, her army and their immobile swords. And Jefferson, still suspended mid air, the vial in his hand. "Jefferson!"

Except he would- could not move. The Queen's quick reaction spell. She laughed then, a sound at last. An ugly, ugly sound, of happiness turned on its inside. "Tell my daughter that she owed me a Hatter. She does not get to take anything from me. Not even that decrepit old heart."

There was another thing Emma could not explain: how her hand that had been limp and useless rose from her side to push light into Cora Mills, push until there was nothing standing in front of her and only remains discarded on the dais. She did not know either how that same hand reached out to Jefferson across the litter of soldier's bodies on the ground and released him from the Queen's hold.

She was not concerned about any of it then. Only with running. She had not made it yet to the exit of the throne room, when Cora spoke one final time: "Regina is my work. She does not love, Emma Swan. She has no need of a heart because she will never be free. And my words bind my magic: if she does not desire your kiss, that heart will not set her free." And that was her very last spell before Jefferson's potion dried it out of her forever.

As parting shots went, saying "Go fuck yourself" was not spectacularly imaginative. It was however, effective when accompanied by a wave of magic so powerful that, even uneducated, was bone and soul crushing.

Cora Mills got to have a taste of her own medicine at the hands of the White Knight.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Regina Mills was not helpless. She worked too hard, hated too much, lost far too much to be helpless. But. (Buts are horrid words, aren't, they so full of excuses and platitudes…) But. Even the strong need a paladin, sometimes, even if they don't want one. But. This time, Regina broke on the outside, where everyone could see. But. This time, Emma was there. But. This time it was too late to fight the need. You can choose whichever on you prefer. But here is what I know happened when Regina needed a saviour:

**1. Spells, curses and their fine print (also known as "the price of magic")**

Spells are so tricky. They are not just words and props. They are, mostly, intent. And when casting the curse- and was spell was so wrong a word here- there had been no planning and only one very amorphous intent- MAKE IT STOP.

You see, pain is distracting, makes you careless, robs you of words. Pain makes you anxious for a resolution, impatient for an outcome.

Spells are tricky because you need to consider all the ramifications. You need to weigh the gains and the losses. You need to calculate and, like any contract, you need to define the terms, leave nothing to chance. But pain? Pain leaves no space in you for that calculation. You could actually say it makes you stupid and you wouldn't be far off. Regina had cast the curse, thinking of nothing but "Make it stop" because all the space there was in her was taken by a void, some place where her hopes and dreams had once lived. Someplace where love had dwelled and filled her and given her joy and certainty.

When Daniel died, she had cried young tears- for the loss of the boy, for the loss of what could have been- the little white house and the horses in the back, the children running around the hem of her skirts. She had lost a future of happiness. She had cried then and hated Snow for what she had cost her.

It was a young hate, not meant to last. A hate in the heat of the moment, at the peak of loss. She had loved the child Snow was mostly because she was meant to love. She needed someone to love. She could not love her husband. She had been given to him, all but tied down with the binds of filial duty, wrapped in a pretty dress that suffocated her. Her love for Snow was beyond her. It just was. When her husband's dutiful nightly exertions produced a pregnancy, she was quietly happy, even if it meant nothing to the king. He had his beloved child. He had Snow, he needed no one else. Not her, not her child.

It didn't matter. She loved that child enough for both of them. There would be no little white house with horses in the back, but there would be a child around the hem of her skirt. She needed nothing more.

**2. When there is nothing left to lose (You are free of what you are)**

The child died inside her. And so did her heart, her resilience, her love. It all shrivelled up and withered thoroughly at the touch of the husband that patted her hand in what should have been her birthing bed and told her "Hush now, no need for tears. Don't worry, dear, I still have Snow." Do you know what is the only other thing love can be? Hate. Love can only become hate.

She cried then, alone. One after the other, the last few tears she would ever cry, plopped on her pillow, one after the other, a celebration of all the things she lost with that child. Love. Joy. Innocence. Faith. Hope. Like her tears, those things all left no trace.

It broke then. That something that binds what you are with what you have lost and keeps you inside yourself. It broke irremediably. She didn't know it then. She was too tired to see it for what it was. She did find out though, when all her father could offer to save her from the king was nothing more than his usual cowardice. He could have taken her away. She'd begged him to. He could have killed the king himself. She had nothing to say if he had. But in the end, his cowardice had cost her her one final- unexpected- hope: the Genie of Agrahbah. It had cost her her illusion that she was good and deserved better, because when she could wait no longer, she would have let a man that truly saw her go to his death.

She had lost everything. And as people who have lost everything will know, when you have lost everything, you are finally free of what you were.

Nature abhors vacuum. In the place where love and kindness used to live, hate made a home. Grown up hate, calculative, quiet, seductive. A hate that promised to fill all the empty spaces left by Daniel and her child and Snow. After a while, she was giddy on it. When she weakened, it gave her strength. When she hungered, it fed her. When she would sit and give up, it propelled her forward. It hurt.

She gave up her heart. And yet the pain remained.

When news arrived that Snow was to marry and latter that Snow was to have a child, that fracture in her became a chasm, a river, an ocean. When she imagined that child, she let hate fill her because she was out of tears to grieve her own. And yet, the pain lingered.

When she exacted revenge, it was on the whole of her loss. Not just of Daniel, not just of her child- her children. When she exacted her revenge, it was not for the husbandless wife or the childless mother she had become. Nothing she did could have been payment enough. Only oblivion was.

**3. 8.15 Storybrooke time**

So it was that this love story did not begin at 8.15 Storybrooke time (which is to say that no one really knows because it was forever 8.15.) It would have been so easy to say that it was love at first sight. It was not. Even the hate it began as was not instantaneous. It took work. Regina Mills worked hard at being hated. Because who knows what lurks behind affection. One moment you are loved, the other you are nothing.

The pain was gone. There was a comfortable numbness of days ruthlessly organised, of a routine that left no space for memory. Memory is a cruel thing, you see. It will eat at you, rob you of what you have left. You have to guard yourself against it. Take precautions. If you don't, every day you lose again. Have you ever felt yourself losing over and over again, everyday? You don't really live and if you don't, nothing will outweigh the loss. You are trapped.

Regina buried her loss in her new days. But she had not read the fine print. Where there were no happy endings, she would be no different from anybody else. The joke was on her.

There was no pain, but there was no happiness either, it seemed. People laughed like they would run out of breath, children played as if there were no games left. Life got lived but there was no magic. Her initial elation at a job well done soon faded. Memory became her enemy. She wished she had been left _memoryless_. She wasn't. She was the one who remembered everything. Memory was a curse. She had it all but nothing was really hers. It was just one more way she kept on losing.

Ever the fighter- she could not help herself- she put away her memories, slowly, deliberately. She worked hard at it. She blocked them behind a simple belief system: if she pretended long enough, hard enough that nothing had ever happened, eventually, it would be true. Who else would know, anyway? She worked diligently at it, at that belief system. Every day she did not let herself remember was a day that nothing had happened. And eventually, it became second nature to her. She had not been the Queen. She had not been Snow's mother. She had not stolen hearts. She had not killed her father. She had never had a mother that hurt her. It was almost as good as the real thing. So long as she remained here, in this little town, she could control her past. It could not come back and chip at her. Eventually, with the years passing, none of those things had truly happened. Until Emma Swan. Until Henry.

**4. 8.16 Storybrooke time (or the Emma Swan effect)**

One day she would learn to control her actions under duress. Henry, her heart, came with fine print too. The fine print was his birth mother and her inability to be coerced.

Regina had let herself love Henry because this was a new land and what were the odds that she would not succeed at it? She had always been a mother without a child. Henry had come to fill in the gap. But Emma Swan was a part of the deal that had not been disclosed. And when she drove into her life, unwittingly, Regina recognised in her someone just as lonely, someone just as much at odds with the world trying to fit in. And she was scared then because it was so very hard to fight seeing the world according to Emma Swan. Scared that Emma might see through her. She had such fear of finding another like herself that it was only equalled by the desire to find one. What would she do then? Alone was all she knew.

The trouble with Emma and Henry was that Henry was right and Emma indulged him. Their eagerness for answers did not let them do otherwise. Her world of compromise began to fray. She mended it diligently but she knew: she was doomed to fail at that as at every other thing. She would lose and Henry would see for himself the clusterfuck she was and that he had been right all along. She did not want that for him. For him she wanted only the best. The best life, the best house, the best clothes, the best education. The best mother. She was not his best mother. She was not.

She didn't want her half life for Henry. Eventually, she did not want herself for Henry either. She wanted him to start a new, away from her, from Storybrooke from the curse and all that could harm him. She wanted him far from her when mending was no longer an option. She wanted him safe. The fact that Emma wanted to go away only helped things along. Away he would be safe. But Emma misunderstood. As if she would ever want to be alone. Emma misunderstood but when she would have left her to her delusions, Emma followed her upstairs. How was it that such a trivial decision can change everything? How is it that a split moment decision can break what took years to accomplish? Emma followed her upstairs and told her she didn't have a heart. Emma decided in a split second to follow. Regina decided in a blink to admit the truth. It was the first time. She thought that she could get Emma to leave faster.

Emma stayed. Emma stayed and promised her her heart back.

It was like reversing the course of a river. She didn't think it would be possible. It hurt so much. But the hope that had been absent from her life for so long flickered in her. The shock of having someone wanting to do something for her broke her to pieces because for a moment she could not hold back the memory of what had been and to think, just for a fraction of a second that if Emma had been there all those years ago, they would not be here now.

Emma wanted to save her. She shook then, her hands, her arms, her feet, her legs, her whole body taken by tremors she could not control. Like her own body was being torn apart between the past and for the first time a future, a ripping motion.

As she broke at the seams, the dam that held the past at bay broke. She was left alone with it, buried under it, devoured, flattened, destroyed.

And then Emma came back. Emma came back and told her hands what to do, closed her shirt. Emma came back to fix her as sure as she had fixed the buttons of her shirt closed. Emma came back and told her she was going to get her heart back.

She remembered then. She remembered killing Mother. She remembered the death and the threats that came after that. She remembered and she knew how mother would lash out, gnaw at anyone who would help her. She knew letting Emma go was to condemn her to be another Regina walking dead. She wanted her heart back. She wanted to feel again. It would probably kill her to have it back. If it felt like this now how would it feel with her heart back? What good could her heart do for her now? She was weak. Mother was right. She was not worth it. And then she was back there and unable to return to Storybrooke.

**5. Killing kindness**

Snow stood before her impossibly young, a child again. And then it was Mary Margaret Blanchard and then the Snow that had lived in the woods, cast out. There was the Snow in mourning, the Snow she had held to her for a last time, because Snow was her child too and she was grieving. The child she had to hate when all love had died inside her.

Something was not quite right with her. She was the Mayor. She was Madam Mayor and Mary Margaret Blanchard should not be in her house, looking slightly afraid, slightly pitying her. She was Madam Mayor and there was nothing wrong. She had it all. Mary Margaret Blanchard or Snow, young or not, should not be sitting here holding her hand. She looked at their hands together and pulled her back, because Snow could not mean anything but her destruction.

And when Snow held the pill out to her, it was a poisoned apple in her hand. She fought then. She fought because even heartless, childless, loveless evil queens have a survival instinct and they do not want to fade away gently.

But this was Mary Margaret Blanchard and there was no magic left in this land and the apple became a pill again. Mary Margaret Blanchard was not Snow. School teachers and Storybrooke did not poison evil queens. They handed pills that would numb the pain and leave you trapped inside with only your screaming for company. No, this was Storybrooke, there were no happy endings, no poisoned apples. Cruelty wore a gentler mask. It looked like a pill and it would not kill her.

She took the water and she took the pill and Mary Margaret Blanchard smiled then, her child-reassuring smile. Mary Margaret Blanchard was Snow, the older one that hated her and the younger one that loved her. And she held her hands and said "Don't fight it. It's going to be OK. Shush, hush now."

The pill loosened all her muscles, all her cells, all her conscious thoughts. The pill broke through her careful barrier, the one that stood everyday between the Evil Queen and the Mayor. It plunged her into sleep and all her nightmares, so alive, all at her throat like dogs. She could not breathe and she could not fight them.

That pill in Mary Margaret Blanchard's hand was a killing kindness.

**6. The prison within**

Emma's voice brought her from where her mother kept on ripping her heart out of her chest over and over again. Emma made her stop. Emma with her golden hair and the bad manners. She wanted to grab her hand and not let go. "What happened to your mom?"

Oh that was simple. She had killed her. She had run her through with her spell as surely as with a sword. She had killed Mother. For all the good it had done her. She had killed Mother. She had defeated her, exiled her. She felt relief. She felt herself go back to her nightmare, but because of Emma Swan, she went back knowing she stood a chance of surviving.

.

Time passed in a blur of faces: Mary Margaret Blanchard, Mother, Snow, Mother, King, Genie, Father, Mother. Mary Margaret Blanchard. One more pill. One more pill to trap her inside herself, unable to escape. Past or nightmare. Same difference. Time passed and she endured because between the pills and her mother, she was still Regina and she kept on losing. Even if this was Storybrooke and Mary Margaret Blanchard was no longer Snow. She still lost every single time. Even against herself.

"Whatever it is, you'll get over it" Mary Margaret Blanchard murmured softly as if it could help._ It_ was Daniel and her child and Snow. How could she get over _it_? How do you get over those that were your life just because you will never get them back? It was an obscene thing to say but Regina could not explain why, and this was Mary Margaret Blanchard and she had no clue why it was such a gross wound to inflict. Something that burned and burned and burned and because Mary Margaret Blanchard kept on mumbling she would get over _it_, the burning only grew and her body was not her own anymore, not to rebel and scream and shout that getting over _it_ was not possible. Because she had tried and, like at everything else, she had failed.

**7. The courage to scream and cry**

A hand, a cold, cold hand was the first thing she felt that was not the numbness of her body or the burning in her soul. It was a cold hand that guided her to where she could fight, to where she could resist. Against all she had believed, against all she had hoped and worked for, that hand, that welcome hand belonged to Emma Swan.

And that hand did not sooth and the voice that came with it did not shush her. The hand held her arms and the voice called her by her name and ground her to where the kind pill could not reach her and her mother's hands had no strength.

Emma had come back. The impertinent, rude, unwelcome Emma Swan had come back, bloodied and wounded. She smelled of blood and sweat and of new magic. She smelled of her mother's sweet rose powder scent and she could not fight the fear and revulsion that smell caused in her and she recoiled into herself, trying to close herself shut because she was weak Regina again, not the Queen, not even the Mayor. She was just the daughter again, and the daughter was afraid.

But where she would have stayed, wounded and afraid, Emma pulled her back. She gave her a box and inside, she knew because her whole body recognized it, was her heart.

But even heartless, childless, loveless evil queens- or mayors- have a survival instinct. That heart could kill her. As surely as a poisoned apple. When she had given up her heart, she had given up her love, her hopes, all the things you need a heart for. Getting it back would not bring Daniel or her child or Snow back. So she would have a heart and she would have the love and the hopes but no one to love and no one to hope things for.

She cried then, all tears she had not allowed herself to cry since her child had died inside her so many years ago. Having her heart there, knowing she could love again, love Henry like he needed, love again, someone else and being too scared to take it, it was like dying of thirst standing by the water.

"Do you want it back?" Emma asked, her cold hand still in her arm, not holding her back, just supporting her. She shook her head. _No_. She lied. She wanted to feel something else beside the numbness, something besides the absence of feeling. _No._

"It's OK to be afraid, Regina." Was it? Was it OK to be afraid? It had never felt OK before. It had never been OK before, because when you're scared, mothers and kings and fathers, they take that fear and turn it against you. "It's OK to be afraid. I'm afraid too." The hand that held her arm held her shoulder and then her face and Regina wanted to believe the words so much because it is such a great burden to not believe anyone. It is so lonely. And she was just so tired of not feeling anything because the alternative would be fear and death and loneliness. She was the most tired woman in the world.

"And it's OK to cry" Regina felt them then, the big fat tears rolling down her face as if they had been waiting for the endorsement, soaking her white shirt. "It's OK to be angry. It's OK to scream. You're entitled to scream. I don't know what she did to you. I have no idea. But I felt it, what she hated and how she hated, I felt it all inside me when she was inside my head. I don't know what happened, but it's OK to scream because sometimes it's all you have left."

She wanted to. She really wanted to, but her throat did not. There are certain things that are stolen from you. The strength to open your voice, the courage to scream, to show that you're angry and devastated, that had been taken, snuffed out of her. But there she was, Emma Swan, and she was not shushing her and she was not feeding her pills. Here she was, Emma Swan who would have stood with her even if she had screamed and shouted and wailed for all she had lost. Emma Swan, who held out her bloodied arms for her to crawl into when the sobs came instead of the scream that she didn't have. Emma who had hated her and told she did not have a heart was the only person that had stood there while she lost her mind and her composure, the only person that did not turn away from her when she was at her worst.

She sobbed and chocked into those arms and then she opened her shirt when she felt brave because she had a heart and she wanted it back even if it meant she would died poisoned by her own wants and needs. She wanted it back because Emma had gone for it and returned holding it as if it was precious. Tough Regina knew better than that.

**8. Precious**

Emma took the still heart from the box and held it with great care, the grey ashes becoming red embers in her hands. She knew what to do then, with certainty if she had ever had any, she pushed her hand and the heart it held against Regina's ribcage, over the mark Cora had left when she had taken it. She pushed and the flesh offered resistance at first but then Emma squared her shoulders and pushed harder, against logic against biology and against all she knew before this. And then she felt it, the body opening up to her, to the heart she carried. With her left hand she pulled Regina to her, holding her steady, holding herself too because she was terrified that she had lost her ever loving mind. But then, like a puzzle, the heart fit into its place and then it began beating, once, twice, stronger.

Regina gasped. She felt _full_ and _warm_ and _complete_. For a moment, she couldn't understand why she'd ever wanted it out of her, why she had given it up. And then there was only pain again. Absurd, all encompassing pain in her body, in her soul.

Can you imagine if everything that has ever hurt in your life- from the most modest to the most grievous of hurts- came back at the very same pin point in time to hurt you all over again? All those rejections, all those embarrassments, all those things that were taken from you, all the ones you lost on your own, all the hurt you caused and regretted, all the stumped toes, all the broken bones, all the accusations, all the slights. All the small ways your soul is broken. All the small ways you die every day. All of it, all condensed into that one moment: the moment she got her heart back.

But Emma had her in the stronghold of her arms and Regina knew then she needed only to hold on. She held on to Emma, a tether to life and Henry and hope. She held on as her body broke and mended itself to a heart she had grown unaccustomed to having. She held on during the excruciating pain and the despair so fresh of all those things her heart remembered. She clutched at her heart because, even if it had been black and deformed and old and dead, it had looked and felt precious when Emma held it her hands. She clutched at it because at the same time it mended itself it broke anew because for the very first time, there was someone that did not walk way to give her privacy to deal with things.

Pain is rarely private. You may think you do a good job at hiding it. Don't fool yourself. There is no hiding it. There are just people around you willing to not see it the same way you look away from someone with a deformity. People look away because they there is no dealing with it. Pain is obscene and ugly and no wants any part of it. You are truly on your own.

But Emma? She held her and cried with her and told her she should cry and the only thing she did was rub circles in her back that told her she was still there, circles of a compassion she had never sought, circles of warmth that told her she was not alone. For the very first time- even with Daniel- she was not alone. Emma tightened her hold as if she too needed comfort. That, more than anything, was her undoing: that somehow Emma needed her too.

**9. You needed me**

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Regina. I though… I thought … I didn't know I believed it. I thought you needed your heart back. I'm so sorry"

"Why?"

"Why? Because I thought I had it all figured out. I thought it would make you happy… No, not that… I thought it would make you easier to…" She hesitated because she couldn't quite pluck up the courage. But Regina's hair was plastered to her face with the sweat and the tears. Her bravery deserved the truth. "I thought it would make you easier to love…"

"Why are you sorry?" Her voice was hoarse, gravelly. She took Emma's hand and pressed it, palm against her thrumming heart. She had never missed it before. She had never missed it until Emma. Hearts are commodities. Superfluous. Easier to live without. "Thank you". Her thumb rubbed circles on the back of Emma's hand. "Thank you".

Her hurt subsided, the tears dried, the sobs relented. A kiss that started at her eyes migrated to her mouth. A kiss that became light and strength. A kiss that became a smile in Emma's bloodied face.

"Thank you. Thank you for giving me back my heart."

Everything was new. She felt more. As if all her senses were heightened. What had been numb was all feeling. What had been ordinary was exceptional. Yes, it hurt. It would all hurt for a very long time.

_The curse broke when Emma's smile sank into Regina's pupils. That moment shone star-like, a diamond in the pitch black of the night sky. It shone like a perfect diamond. For that one moment, Regina was light and goodness and nothing could ever be broken or wrong. Nothing would ever hurt again._

The comfort of the embrace became desire of the body then. A desire to heal, to sooth. Regina touched each of the wounds on Emma's body, knowing well what had caused them, but never recoiling. This was the time to bloom, because there was too much to lose by remaining in bud. Her fingers, her palms, shed soft magic, a magic she was not aware of possessing, not here, not in this land. A magic that paid no price. With each touch, a desire as intense as the pain, as strong as they both were bloomed. The first tentative touches became eager response. The first soft kisses were soon a feast, a pull and tug at the centre of her, that demanded more and more. Each strand of saliva brought them closer, each bead of sweat made them more generous. Each inch of skin she touched awakened something in her, something she had never felt before, because she'd been so _young_ with Daniel she'd had no clue that _this_ could happen, where she had no idea where Emma's skin ended and hers began, what was her pleasure and what was Emma's. She had honestly never thought that her body could give or take so much pleasure. She had never quite believed that flesh against flesh, flesh inside her could release in her the love she had squirreled away despite herself. The sighs became moans, the movement became storm, the tender became demanding, the plural became singular until it all exploded around them, all their molecules shattering, scattering rearranging themselves in a new and quite extraordinary order.

That magic, Emma's and hers, that love made like bread with your hands, with your heart, with salt and sugar, was not, after all, there greatest gift she could ever have hoped for.

When Emma submitted to Regina's sleep, when Regina's eyes closed with Emma's exhaustion, _she knew- not consciously, not right there, not then – but she knew and her lips curved in a smile that was nothing short of pure: her barren, wasted body (what was left behind when death had come for her baby) had conceived a child._

So you see, it doesn't really matter that things are not meant to last. Sure, it would be wonderful if some of them did. But in the end, what good we lose, if only you have the courage to stand after you have fallen, you can find it again.

Because life shrinks or expands in proportion to your courage. And Regina was done hiding inside herself.

Here is what I know of when Regina needed Emma: Emma needed her right back. There is never a time or a place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single throbbing moment. But. (Buts are strange words, aren't, they so full of promises and courage) But this was theirs.

I know because I was there.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The Storybrooke town hall events room had not been designed for so many people, mostly because Storybrooke was not really a democracy. There were people sitting down- mostly the old – since its citizens were still adept at chivalry - while most of the of the towns' folk stood against the walls, perched on window sills, crowding the aisles, filling every nook and cranny of the place. They whispered to one another, their expressions grim with purpose.

The acoustics of the room were not particularly brilliant either. The whispering of many had become a deafening roar. Or maybe it was just the way her heart seemed to be pumping in her ears. No one seemed to notice her which was perfect. From her wallflower vantage point, the current status quo suited her just fine.

Chaos always suited her just fine.

It would give her time to regroup, to rethink her strategy laid waste by that meddlesome Emma Swan. All was not lost. It would take just a little flexibility.

* * *

Ruby shot into the chamber of the cave Regina was kept in. Her hasty entrance woke Emma up with a start, making her reach for her gun, the only thing she'd had a presence of mind to carry when Regina had been taken. She kept Ruby in her sight, unable to process the non threat in Ruby's hands held high and in her breathless wheezing.

"Emma, put your gun down." Regina spoke from behind her. The tone was soothing, as if waking Henry from a nightmare. "Ms Swan. Put the gun down." The bars heated to her touch.

Ruby, bless her, stood her ground, shaky though it was. "Emma… Where's Snow… I… huh… I need you guys to come. Now."

"Home." Emma lowered her gun. "With David… yeah… James and Henry. Why?"

"I need to talk to her. Like NOW. We need to talk now." There was no confusing the urgency in her voice.

"Ruby!" The tone was commanding. Clearly, Ruby had something stuck in her craw and Emma felt tempted to just make her spit it out, because if this was about Regina… Well… The compulsion to defend her was still too new not to feel awkward, but she was just that adaptable.

_Wow_, Ruby pondered, _princesshood befits Emma_. "There's a meeting going on in the town hall. She must be there, Emma. You all must be there"

"What about?" Emma's fingers itched on her gun.

"What do you think?" She asked lowering her voice, her chin pointing behind Emma. "Look, to be honest, unless you tell me there is some reason I should care… I really don't. But… hell, King _freaking_ George is there. He's sort of like your grandfather and all, but, geez, Emma, he tried to have your mom killed. And he is already making speeches and I'll be damned if I like it. Snow and Charming… They need to stop him. I don't I like the way this looking. There is just one town and already I can see two kings… "

"And both of them wanting to be judge, jury and executioner by nodded at Emma's assessment. "I need to go. We need to go."

It was for Ruby to be the voice of reason. "Are you leaving _her_ here just like this?" That gave Emma pause. She needed to get to that meeting. She needed to be there, to stop everything in its tracks, or at the very least, try. But Regina was a sitting duck, behind bars, nowhere to hide. And when she looked behind her, it wouldn't take much, it seemed, because Regina looked as fragile as she would ever look, exhausted and drained, as if a stronger breeze might knock her down.

She pulled her hair into a hasty pony tail. She thought better with her hair out of her face. She needed to think, but her judgement as clouded. "Ruby" It was a bad idea in a shit storm of them. "Ruby, you gotta help me on this one."

"Emma..." she whined a little, "she gives me the creeps. You can't be serious."

"I am." Emma held her Ruby's arm and tried to communicate urgency silently.  
"What if you need me there?"  
"I need you here, Ruby. I'll get my mom and we'll go but I…" She pulled on Ruby's arm to shield Regina form what she wanted to say. In the end, however, there was nothing she could hide. I need you to stay here and make sure no one… Please."

Ruby regarded Emma then. "I knew I liked you, I just didn't know why. Do you know how many times I felt you kick my hand? You were a feisty one even before you were born." She walked towards the bars, trying to prove to herself there was nothing to fear. "OK. Go"

Emma placed a gun in Ruby's hands. "Thank you." Behind them, Regina was trying her best to get up. The heating bars she was using as purchase made it impossible. Emma knelt in front of her.

"It's going to be ok." Emma held Regina's hands over the bars she could not feel heating up. Regina made no move to break he contact, despite the burning. "If it's not, make sure Henry doesn't… don't let him see anything, OK?"

"Hey!" Emma's finger held Regina's chin high. "This is a bad timing to give up! Besides, I'm going to sort this out. I prom_"

"No", Regina interrupted her then. "Don't make any promises that you cannot keep, Ms Swan."

"We're a bit past the surname thing, don't you think?" It was sufficient to make a reluctant and small smile, a genuine true to heart smile, bloom in Regina's face. It was, easily, the prettiest smile Emma had ever seen.

When Emma walked out in her fast, purposeful stride, Ruby approached the bars, still breathing hard.

"Did you run here?"

"Yeah… They all seem in an awful big hurry to… huh… you know…"

Regina did know. Only too well. "Did you forget about your car… we do have those in this land… they facilitate transport and locomotion."

Ruby faltered. She wanted to snark back, because this was not an evil queen in any position to dish out anything thing. But she had truly forgotten all about her sweet, sweet ride. As if her muscles were already aching to stretch and be what they had been. What she could well do without.

"So, how do I address you now? Are you still Madam Mayor? I'm not too sure about the Queen thing. Too loaded, if you know what I mean…"

"That is very thoughtful, Miss… huh… Red."

"Ruby. I prefer Ruby. I like being Ruby better than Red."

Regina sighed. That feeling she understood. The past was a weird place to visit. Being thrown back in it was… well, unfortunate. She pressed her hands to her naked thighs trying to sooth the burning. "Regina. Ms Mills. Whichever one you prefer."

Ruby leaned against the bars, unaffected by the heat, as if she could not feel it. "Here" She produced a plastic water bottle form the small bag across her shoulder. "You look like hell."

"Thanks" Regina bit back more out of habit than anything else. And then "Thanks" in a softer tone that told Ruby that she meant it.

The empathy in Ruby wanted to reach out to Regina and offer some comfort, a soothing touch. Trouble was she had all these memories of Snow dead in a coffin and she didn't quite know how to get over those images. "No problem."

* * *

Emma didn't have to go home to alert Snow. She found them hurrying towards the town hall, Henry clutched tightly in her hand. Emma was struck by the family resemblance between her son and her parents. Good lord, she had parents! How had she not seen it before? This was so much like Graham's missing heart she hadn't believed was not there. Henry was a miniature of Snow, with a little James in his smile. Not that there was one going on now. The kid looked as grim as she'd ever seen him.

She was pulled unceremoniously into Snow's arms. She could get used to this. Hell, she had gotten used to this already, because Mary Margaret Blanchard hugged like a mom, all open arms and open heart and _easy_. Though she had never realised it was her own.

"Henry." She tried to hug him, to pull him into her arms, but Henry recoiled from her into Charming's body. "Henry…" It sounded defeated because she felt it in her bones. She was not used to being the one Henry hated. That fiery spark of emotion had never turned on her like it did on Regina. She hated herself for having revelled in that, even briefly. It felt like a punch to the throat and you simply could not breathe.

The obstinate expression in Henry's face told her quite clearly that he did not want to talk to her, to talk things through. He was in no mood for explanations or an account of her quest. He was not interested in her heroics. And it that was a loss she felt acutely, to have lost her son with him standing right there, staring through her. As if she did not exist. What good was she if Henry did not acknowledge it? Henry was the mirror she saw herself through. If he didn't adore her, if he didn't _validate_ her, what point was there to her, really? A low grade anger was brought to simmer.

And sadly, there was not a moment to invest on that subject. Trouble was brewing, and she could feel it. In the grand scheme of things, though she knew Henry should come first and foremost, this took precedence. God only knew what was being conjured up in that room so full of people that the sound was deafening even outside. Her decision was to act on that first. Henry might need a little time to simmer down, anyway. God knew she could use some of that time too, because she too was confused by the turn of events. Ending up doing what she and Regina had done was not what she had imagined as an outcome.

It seemed to Emma that each and every citizen of Storybrook was in that room. And that they were the last ones to arrive.

"Did my invitation get lost in the post?" Snow's voice was clear, steady and it resonated in the room. There was a hint of snark and a lot of demand in it. The room fell silent. Snow took the opportunity to walk towards the stage where King George and King Thomas already stood. It wasn't really a walk, it was more of a glide that carried Snow forward. Emma's mouth was open in shock. This was not Mary Margaret Blanchard. This was not the timid school teacher she had lived with for almost a year.

"That's your mom, Kid. Amazing, isn't she?" James whispered in her hear before bumping her shoulder to get her to follow Snow. In the crowd that parted silently for them to pass, Emma could see some of her friends had the grace to look embarrassed. Granny and Leroy, particularly. Snow climbed to the stage, easily mistaken for small and fragile between the two men. But there it was, that something Emma had seen in the drawings in Henry's book that she had never seen in Mary Margaret's gaze: the strength of purpose.

"Ah, the House of White arrives. Let the festivities begin." Gold almost cackled, glee barely disguised in his voice. "Dearly beloved! We are gathered here to celebrate… ah, who am I kidding? We are here to observe while three monarchs fight and bleed to rule over the Kingdom of Storybrooke." Gold finished his proclamation with a flourish that curdled the blood of those in the room. There was no objection from the crowd or from those on the stage. The volume occupied by the bodies in the auditorium seemed to diminish as if people were trying to occupy less space, to stand out less. Emma understood then why everyone had told her from the beginning everybody was afraid of Gold. "And to burn ourselves a witch, I suspect." He sighed dramatically. "Bread and circus. Bread and circus!" The thumping of cane was a lot like the little Moliere knocks, reminding everyone of their place in a pantomime.

"Except," Granny spoke loudly enough to be heard over the cacophony of voices, "There will be no witch burning until she has been sentenced. And only the true king- or queen- can pass sentence."

Emma bit her tongue. Her first instinct was to remind everyone that Storybrooke was still not a monarchy, and that the laws of the country would apply even if it was the last thing she'd do, but was suddenly reminded that while the whip come and goes, the back will take some respite. Let them decided to get themselves a king and then she would remind them of the facts. Besides, judging on appearance only and what she had read in Henry's book, neither king- George or Thomas (and Emma would never ever forget that he was the bastard who had tried to sell Ashley' baby) – was a particularly good outcome.

She would have to sort that out. Democracy was the one thing she had never admired until the moment she looked in the cold eyes of the former DA. She intended to uphold it now. Mostly because it would piss them off. Snow stepped onto the podium with James at her heel, leaving Henry to stay most reluctantly by her side.

There were heads that bowed to Snow. Emma made a note of those in the "don't worry about them" column of the balance sheet.

"You have no place here, James. I am not dead; you and your wife are not the ruling monarchs yet"

"Not of your kingdom, no, _Father_," But may I remind you that my wife is the heir to the White throne.

"She is a woman!" It was a mixture of shock and disbelief that painted both kings' faces.

It was sufficient for the noise to escalate again in the auditorium as roughly half of the population of the x chromosome persuasion seemed to be quite fond of their emancipation.

* * *

Typical. Nothing ever got done without hullabaloo. She wondered briefly how long before it all escalated into war. Three Houses, three kingdoms, all full of dirty little secrets. All of them pathetically inbred into an inch of sanity.

Whoever won was not important. The important thing was assured: there would be bloodshed aplenty. Wars were delightfully messy business, always fought at the expense of many for the gain of very few. And no one stood to gain more than she did. Something in her made her want to waltz out and do a little pre-victory dance. Things were going quite all, all considered. Quite well indeed.

She remained seated though. These 29 years in this land had taught her not to gloat, not to demonstrate. They had taught her patience. For one brief moment it all seemed to be lost. But people being what people are, greedy, vindictive and stupid, the task at hand had become considerably easier. Almost too easy to enjoy. Nah, who was she kidding? She would enjoy every single minute of the whole affair. As she always did.

* * *

Emma observed too. From her position, she observed how her parents swapped blow for political blow. She was getting bored already, with a headache. She hadn't slept in well, she had forgotten how long, had fought a battle for her own life, saved a crazed hatter and brought back a heart. Had loved more in one single night than she'd had in her whole life. Her gut clenched. Love?

All she wanted to do now was to grab Henry, give him a good talking too- and herself while she was at it, because of what she had allowed and sanctioned Henry to do and be- and take him to see Regina. Or better yet, find a damned good chain saw and hack through the bars. Magic was no match for power tools.

In the end, oh irony, to bring monarchy to Storybrooke, it took a voting. Where she had been half expecting a war- and good grief, t had been so, _so_ close. It took cajoling and feminine charms – one day Emma promised herself, she would learn how to bat her eyelashes _that_ way- and it took Snow's steady voice and a whistle from Snow that made the good people of Storybrooke stop dead in their run to arms.

"There will be no war! There will be no sacrificing of lives."

"Speak for yourself, Madam" King George griped a loud discontent.

"What do you propose, _Your Highness_?" Gold interrupted from his seat. "Because, quite frankly, after so many years of monotony, I would not mind some action. A taste from home, if you will…"

"I rest my case!" Snow swiped her hand through the air, making sure the gesture included George and stopped pointing at Gold. "Can you honestly tell me you missed _that_ about home?"

There were mumbles, grumbles of discontent. For some, war was all they knew from the old life. A trade as much any other.

"Then may I suggest a much more… _civilized_… sport. Let there be elections." Gold's tone, Emma realised, denied the qualification.

* * *

Whoever said elections were a civilized affair should be committed." Granny commented sitting on the customer side of her diner. There were only nods of assent. There was to be an election in three days and that wouldn't be a moment too soon, in Emma's opinion because she hated elections, she hated the way everybody looked at each other with distrust, as if electing one or the other made them sworn enemies. Of course it suited her to have Snow and James as the ruling monarchs, though if the election would stand the test of endurance only time would tell. But it was far more comfortable to know she could count on some royal support when it came to Regina's trial. There was a lot Regina needed to make amends for. But to Emma it was impossible to believe that killing her would sort anything. It wouldn't send them all back to the Enchanted Forest. It would not restore the time lost nor the ones that spent that time apart when they should have together- case in point: Snow and James- and it would not settle the unrest if a return was not possible. What on earth was so great about the Enchanted Forest that made returning one of the two only things on everybody's minds? Did springs run beer instead of water?

She did give herself a good talking too, but that was more of stalemate than a decision. She stared at the mirror in the bathroom and studied her face until it became a collection of lines, neither good nor bad. The face that stared back at her was the same she saw all the other days before this one and yet everything seemed to be so different. She had seen and done things she had not thought possible until yesterday. Where did that leave her? She was what she believed: about herself, about others and about life. The last two days tilted that belief system on its axis, left it muddled and unable to make sense.

There was magic, for christsakes, there was evil. She had known bad shit and bad times and times where she had wanted nothing but to be the kind that gives up. But pure evil, the essence of it as she had felt it at Cora's hands? That she hadn't known before. It was surreal, like being tossed inside a horror movie. She didn't quite know how to deal with the bone deep certainty that that evil did, most likely live in Regina. Because how could it not?

And there was another rub: Regina. The Regina that had tried to kick her out of town, the Regina she had traded insults and blows with. The Regina she had made love too. And oh, God, the Regina that had killed Graham. How on earth was she supposed to deal with the fact that knowing all those things, still her instinct to stay, her instinct to fight that corner seemed so overwhelming? How was she supposed to reconcile the habit of upping sticks and leave with the need to stay and fight? How was she supposed to balance the hate with that whatever it was that ached to be in that mine now?

Regina was both virgin and hooker, saint and sinner, good and evil. Nothing excused her and nothing blamed her, because, sure as the sun, there must have been a moment where she had stopped being the better part to become the worse. But both were her. Both where in her.

There was no way she could love someone like that, was there? The tug at her stomach, at the very core of her when she thought of Regina, that was lust, right? It had to be. Because love, well, you have to be worthy of it, no? And as far as she could tell, Regina was not worthy and Emma was not capable. No, not at all.

It angered her that she could not say firmly, with certainty. The inability to step firmly either with evil or with good, love or hate, made her nervous. And a little mean.

There was no talking to Henry, though. He locked himself in Snow's room, refusing to come out. Emma sat outside the closed door, her head throbbing from the sheer effort of trying to kick to the surface.

"Henry, come on" Eloquent she was not. She wanted to curse, knock the door down and bring the kid out by his ears. "There are things you don't know about. There is a whole story that book does not tell. Give her half a chance. She's your mom. She loves you. She's loved you all your life."

"So did you." The voice was both belligerent and hesitant, asking for confirmation.

"No, Henry, I didn't. I loved the _idea_ of you. I didn't know who you are. I didn't think of you every day. I did not ache to be with you. I ached to forget." Her nails clawed at the door. There you go kid, here's your ticket for a few more years in therapy. "Your mom _chose_ you. Changed your diapers. Put up with your crap. And still she loves you. I gotta tell you, right now, I don't much like you…" And it was true. It was God's honest truth, not that she knew much about that. Could you even be this honest with a child? "I love you, but I don't really like you, right now." God, it sounded like such bullshit, but it was honest, at least.

"How can you defend her?" Came the angry reply from behind the closed door. "How could you be in bed with _her_ like that?" I hate her. I hate her and I hate you! Go away, _Emma_!"

The kid had had a point. How could she defend her? How could she stand between Regina and her comeuppance? Her childhood was unjustified, the nights she had no dinner, no warmth, the years she had no one but a monogrammed blanket, the side of the road, all of it was Regina's doing. Regina, the heartless. Regina the bullied. Hells bells! What a clusterfuck.

By the afternoon, Emma felt like she was slowly losing her ever loving mind. She tried to do it quietly, but she was not the type. She drove Snow and James to silence. The conversation that had started as a sort of political pow wow moved with every word towards what to do with Regina. How to handle _her._ And then to why Emma was so hell bent on saving her life. The way of the Enchanted Forest was the beheading. Get it over with. Give closure to everyone without much suffering. That opened a particularly nasty can of worms Emma was not prepared to deal with. She was unable to deal with what she felt. She thought about facts. Facts were good things. Reliable. But the Enchanted Forest had a whole different set of values that she did not quite understand. The only thing she knew was that on her watch no one was getting murdered. That included Regina. Maybe even Gold, despite the sliminess of his speech, though maybe a little squeeze in that respect might reset the scales

Action. She needed to act. She needed to move or she would be consumed by her thoughts, her ill formed, shapeless thoughts that never quite reached a conclusion without getting side tracked to the sensations and the warmth she could still feel if she allowed herself to.

She pounded up the stairs and stuffed clothes in a gym bag, a blanket. She pounded down the stairs to the kitchen and on impulse, kissed Snow's cheek and hugged David and pounded the flight of steps to the street. She stopped at Granny's for food. Any food. She didn't want to spent time choosing. Anything, she told Granny. Just pack whatever's ready. And then she drove to the mine, heavy foot on the gas pedal, jerky movements on the steering wheel. The journey was over too soon because Storybrook was the size of an egg and there was no distance she could drive that would give her time to settle the nerves in her stomach or to quell the anxiety that had started creeping the moment she had first thought the words _make love_. Because that was not what Emma Swan did. There was no love in the craft. Ever.

She stopped the bug in a cloud of dust and missed the faces hidden behind the shrubbery that surrounded the old mine. Which was probably good because at that moment she didn't quite know whether she would shield Regina or push her towards the firing squad.

Ruby sat slumped against the bars, her mouth slightly open in sleep. Regina sat against the rocky side of the cave, head lowered, shoulders sagging, like a discarded doll a capricious child had tossed in her haste. Ruby snapped awake the moment Emma's boots crunched the sandy floor, wide awake and in a defensive stance.

Emma took a moment to process the wash of relief and quiet in her body. The agitation, the nerves, the anxiety were all at a normal Emma Swan level, which is to say, all there, but not shouting louder than everything else inside of her. The noise of those things was not quite so deafening in this cave.

On an impulse, she hugged Ruby. Red. Whatever. She hugged the girl. God, what was wrong with her? Emma Swan was not a hugger; she did not easily dispense affection. It was not in her muscular power. Though it might have been a genetic thing. "Thanks, Ruby. I owe you one."

"It's ok. No sweat."

"Take the bug. It's getting dark."

A funny thing happened then. There was a moment of silence that did not quite include Emma. "Thank you, Ruby" Regina's voice came, tired, from the back of the cave. She sounded so far from everything. Ruby inclined her head in acknowledgement and walked into the exit corridor.

It made no sense, that need Emma felt to hold Regina to her. No sense at all.

"I brought you some clothes. They're mine. They're clean." She stumbled through the words she could say because there were others that were not quite so simple and that got stuck in her throat like sticky toffee that does not let you breathe.

Regina struggled herself. Her throat closed tightly, hot and sore as if she had a bad cold, or a case of the flu. Her whole body hurt with the tightness in her throat, because there were things- not much, not really- but things she wanted to say but Emma was skittish and there was an energy around her, and even the way even her hair moved seemed agitated warned Regina to keep her counsel. But holding the gym clothes in her hand, smelling that clean laundry smell, well, that was enough to make her throat close on her and her eyes water dangerously. Having a heart was a nuisance. So she turned to the back of the cave and pulled on the soft sweat pants and the hooded jacket and took those precious seconds to reign in those would be tears and that almost sob. Having a heart was tiresome. Having a heart was a relief. How did people live a heart every day? She took a deep breath and feeling more in control, she turned to Emma.

"Thank you" She sat by the bars, because she craved the proximity to the other body, she craved it for the warmth and the creature comfort. She craved it because Emma pushed away at the loneliness. Emma had left. Since she had met her, Emma had been always been leaving. But she came back. Every time.

"How is Henry?"

Emma snorted. It was unlady like and it made Regina cringe a little. "He hates me." Emma rubbed at her face and paced.

Regina wanted to offer support and kind words. She found she lacked the skill, the vocabulary, the experience. She only had the empathy. She looked up at Emma still pacing, willing her yes to show something, anything that could offer comfort. She got the measure of her failure when Emma crouched next to the bars. "He hates me because I slept with you". The words were spat out. She held on to the bars she knew would burn her hands because maybe then she would feel something that was not this _tearing_ in her heart, this _impossibility_ to breathe.

It was as if Emma's volatile molecules settled then, weighed down by all that was heavy in her heart. She sat across from Regina and cupped her hands over the bars, her thumb rubbing a slow circle on Regina's finger.

"_She_ told me that if you did not desire my kiss, you would not be free. Even with a heart." There was a silent devastation to Emma's words, mixed with accusation and sorrow.

Regina sucked in a hurt breath. Even talking about _her_ hurt. But she found that she could raise her eyes to Emma and say "I did". And that was the truth of it. Even she didn't quite understand where the strength was coming from.

"But look where that freedom has brought you…" Regina looked then. She waited for the regret, for the anger. For the weariness.

She touched her forehead to Emma's fingers.

There was nothing to say. She felt toxic. This was all she ever achieved, hurting those around her. But regret that she had _felt _again? That she had her heart to feel with, to believe with? Not really. That's why _this_ was OK. "It's OK." Because, it turned out, that being in this cage actually felt freer than she had even been since she had buried Daniel in her apple orchard so many years ago."


	8. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** thank you to the two GLaDOS2.0 and hjbau for letting me know that I had managed to upload the wrong chapter. *sight* slight senior episode.

Anyway... on with the show...

Much love

Jane

* * *

Chapter 7

The three days of the campaign were an oxymoron of speed and stillness. Everything was happening too fast, the smear campaigns, the scandalous gossip, the pure, unadulterated pettiness of the parties. And not at all fast enough to get it over with. Emma would have loved to be able to say that her mother had behaved exemplary. She had not. She had participated in the gossip, imparted information that had been secret until that time- and all about things that had happened, all things considered, 30 years ago, though with the memory bracket of a different life, it seemed they had happed only yesterday. It seemed the fairy tale characters had long memories and short tempers.

It served as small consolation that Snow had not participated in the violence and had publically appealed to her supporters to abstain from the skirmishes and general malevolence. Snow, it seemed, had little trust good prevailed on its own value if it wasn't willing to fight (and fight a little dirty) in the same battles and use the same weapons as evil. Though, come to think of it, according to Henry's book, neither King Thomas and King George were above reproach. Big, fat _ah_ to that. It seemed there was not much difference between the good ones and Regina except the results and the names they gave to their tactics.

Emma deputised Ruby and, funnily enough, Leroy. Being of stocky build and having an allegiance mostly to Snow- without fear of simply ignoring her- or anyone else by that matter- if it did not suit him- he was woefully the not so bad candidate in a line up of ex palace guards and professional executioners she knew nothing about. The underbelly of fairytale land was rolling to the top and, it seemed, that underbelly was a good fat portion of the population.

Her days were spent between running around stopping fights and impending attacks on political adversaries and escaping to see Regina. It was a need as much physical- to assure herself of her safety- and something deeper, inside her bones, perhaps- the need for an equilibrium, a silence of all the anger and resentment inside her that only happened when they were together. Even if separated by bars.

The fear, the anguish about the trial to come- those she saved for herself.

* * *

Regina knew Emma was scared because she had become cordial in their exchanges. That had never happened before. OK, so this was not the same as before, but it still felt forced. As if she was minding each word, balancing them in a curious act of care. She deliberately downplayed the chaos Storybrooke had descended into, what must have been promised to the masses in return for their vote. Democracy was not something Storybrooke was accustomed to and Regina did not expect any responsibility or serenity in the promises for after the election. There was only one thing likely to matter to Storybrooke and that was what became of her. No one would want to promise a return- simply because no one knew why it had not yet happened. She did not know either. Why weren't they back? Not that she wanted to go. There was nothing for her in that world. She had not missed any of it. Not even her magic. What she had gained here, the control over herself was well worth the sacrifice. But with a promise to return out of the equation, what else was there to promise but her demise? And, she would bet, the bloodiest promise would get the more votes. The only question was, therefore, if the blood thirst would be satisfied with the simple beheading or if it would demand more flourishes, more detail. More suffering.

People with a heart usually wanted to satisfy it in the most painful ways. She had.

* * *

Ruby had told her on the second day she was afraid of the full moon. It was an hesitant confession, born out of loneliness that people fated for happy endings could not understand. She was afraid that with the curse broken, she would be left lose in Storybrooke in her _other _self. She was afraid of hurting others, of being killed for what she was. Regina had had an almost unstoppable urge to take her hand and tell the girl she understood. She fought that urge tooth and nail. What good would it do? But she did. She understood the fear. She understood the compulsion in her bones to be the worst part of herself. She expended most of her energy just to be _normal. _Just to be this tame version of herself now that the truth was out, now that Henry had been vindicated and had left her for good.

Ruby's confession exposed Regina's own fear, one she had to live with. Where she had before transformed that fear into action, tearing paths through the ruin of other people's lives until she could say that she feared nothing and no one, she now had to sit still, locked in a cage, her heart too weak to let her pace that fear away. All those years she had lived, her heart knew them, felt them, showed them in the way it beat with effort, an arthritic, wrinkly old heart. And still she wouldn't give it up for the world.

She admitted it to herself. She was afraid to be that thing again, to be the beast that roamed the land ruining lives. She was afraid no one would stop her. There was a venom inside her and she was tired of it. That night in Emma's arms had been a wonder of freedom from that venom. She had been the best possible version of herself and it had felt light and unencumbered as nothing had ever felt.

Storybrooke without happy endings was far better than the Enchanted Forest with all its magic and fairy godmothers. For those like her, the absence of an ending was as good as it got. She kept her observation to herself because Ruby did not want or need her sympathy. No one did. Because what are you if evil sympathises with you?

* * *

Emma placed the brown take out bags from Granny's close to the bars where Regina could reach them. They were grease stained and slightly disgusting looking. Certainly nothing like she imagined Regina's meals had been like in that white mansion. Or like the meals she'd had as a queen. She took some time to imagine things Regina had done as a queen. The small things, like how she walked and how she dressed and how she spoke, how she ate and slept. She imagined the small things, the ones that required no interaction with other people, because she needed to build up her courage for that. Because the truth would come out eventually and she wanted to be ready.

Emma feared knowing the things she did not know about Regina as much as she fearing not knowing them. And almost as much as she feared the outcome of the trial every single one of the candidates to the throne had promised.

"What do you miss the most about home?" Emma sat on the floor, leaning against the bars, her hands holding on to the rough iron, no hint of the heat Regina felt.

Regina hesitated in her answer. There was nothing she missed about the Enchanted Forest. Absolutely nothing. Only a someone. Did she really want it revealed? She placed her hands over Emma's. Her heart beat stronger, quickly losing rhythm as if it could not keep up with the emotion. She felt her breath shorten. "Daniel" She needed someone to know the truth. If no one did, when she died, Daniel would truly be dead, no one to know his name. If a tree falls in the forest and no one sees it, was it ever there? That was the true end, wasn't it? "I miss Daniel." She could see the hurt in Emma's whole body, how it took over every muscle, every sinew, every bone. She could feel how Emma's hands went cold and how her breath hitched silently in her chest. Emma and her, they had this in common: none of them gave away easily that something was breaking inside. But desperate souls recognise each other. "Mother killed Daniel. She took his heart."

It was petty jealousy, Emma admitted to herself with shame. She was jealous of a dead man. Jealous of Regina. This was not Emma Swan. "Did you love him?" _Duh_, her inner moron pointed out.

"I did." Her distracted fingers caressed Emma's. "I do, still."

"He's dead." Emma wanted to punch herself, because she did not do jealousy, she did not do needy.

"He is. But that's no reason to stop."

"God, I was kinda hopping you'd say _apples_. Or _pheasant_."

"Pheasant is overrated." Regina let herself sooth the hurt she'd caused. "But I have come to understand that… that feeling…" And she could not bring herself to utter the words _love_ afraid she would dirty the word in some way. "It's not all there is… here." She touched her chest over her erratic beating heart and then returned to cup Emma's hand in hers because she was not ready to let go. And that was all she could say about that. "Now, Ms Swan, are there any provisions in this electoral campaign to feed the prisoner? Or have they decided to starve me?"

It felt good to be able to say things like that out loud. For the last two days they had avoided the subject. Any subject, really. Almost every subject was taboo. Henry, who now hated them both. The election. The trial. It was easier to stay silent because there were far too many landmines they could step on if they tried to navigate a conversation.

This felt much better. This felt like confronting a fear and that was, at least, doing something.

"You've got some nerve, Madam Mayor. The Sheriff herself comes to feed you and this is the thanks I get for my troubles."

"I had no idea Storybrooke had any police officer beyond the Sheriff."

"It does now. Two deputies, one Sheriff. There are lots and lots of us. When this all goes tits up, I'm sure we'll restrain the crowd with one hand behind our backs." It felt really good to joke about things. Any more seriousness and Emma might just burst something. Probably a coronary artery. Or her last nerve.

* * *

The third day of campaign came and went. And then there was the election on the fourth day. The whole of Storybrooke flocked to the polling stations bright and early and before lunchtime, every single voter had voted. It was a resounding success.

The ballots were counted by the fairies. Emma did not like it one bit when they were chosen for that. She would have rather had Archie or even herself do that. But she had to settle for representatives of three candidates to be present at the counting.

"Don't tell anyone," Ashley (there was no way she could call that girl Cinderella) whispered in her ear when they were waiting outside the convent. "But I voted for Snow"

It seemed the sentiment was shared by more than Ashley. Katherine, though, was the most surprising of the lot. Emma would have expected that she would vote for anyone else but Mary Margaret. "I always liked a ballsy woman. And quite frankly, King George is a little bit of a shit. I find language in this land quite liberating, you know?"

* * *

There was not much she knew about elections. In Storybrooke, after all, there had been but one true election, when that _inconvenient_ Emma Swan had been elected Sheriff. Anything else was sort of like a foreign experience, with Storybrookeans flowing orderly and _anaesthetically_ to the voting stations, no real investment, no real enthusiasm. But this? Oh, this carried such entertainment value in itself she wanted to clap her hands in glee. Still, she behaved demurely, always the wallflower. She had to remember to congratulate herself later, privately, on the performance.

* * *

By night time, Snow was Queen. There was no crown and no coronation ceremony. But Snow was queen and Thomas Sr. and George merely two very self important Storybrooke citizens. And then it was the time when push came to shove. Snow was accosted immediately by the two would-be kings and there were demands that Regina be tried swiftly and punishment meted out without delay.

Snow bared her teeth, exercising her power as a muscle, checking how far it went. Good thing old habits die hard. Surrounded by her court, Snow determined that there should be a case built, an accusation team assembled and a defence team organised. Maybe a venue organised. As expected, George took over the accusation, which, all things considered, was more than a little ironic, what with him having been the DA in her case and now whatever the Enchanted Forest's equivalent would be to that for Regina.

If it wasn't for the fact that Snow disliked him intensely, she would have obtained some satisfaction from that fact.

It was, however, far more difficult to find a defence team for Regina. When she looked around her, no one volunteered. Leroy, quick and to the point, summed up everyone's feelings: "That will be the day, sister!"

* * *

Emma did not expect any different. Regina was the bottom line of the election and the end result of her trial was pretty much a certainty. It did not mean they could not try. And it did not mean it wasn't a crushing blow. She hugged Snow tight. The hug she had been missing all her life. This was a bad timing to become an emotional mess, but that hug felt so right, so proper. So full of strength and love.

She picked herself up, carefully, breathed deeply, shoring herself up and puffed out her chest in defiance. "Ok. I've got that."

"Yes, you do." James said as he placed dinner on the table. He was a simple man and his needs simple. He wanted nothing but claim his child, to hug her to him, to hug away the years and offer his pledge for the future. But he had come to know Emma a little for these past few months and he was uncertain of her reaction. No, she would not push him away, but she did not quite strike him as the touchy feely kind of person. Which was unfortunate because he knew no better way to speak his love than that. All the rest was incidental. On an afterthought, he prepared a box with a separate portion of the dinner he had cooked and set aside to keep warm. "And when we're finished here, you can go to that mine and take this with you."

The hug came unexpected to Emma, reaction more than action. David or James or Prince Charming was her _dad_ and that was at once embarrassing and humbling and plain unbelievable. But he was there setting food on the table that he had cooked himself (at the expense of a couple of lost battles with the knife and a suspicious burning smell) and he had made space in his evening and, apparently, in his life for how she felt about him and Snow and Regina and… stuff. Despite the fact that she was still struggling with it. It was the acceptance of the gesture that was her undoing and that propelled her from her chair and moved her arms around him.

"Thank you!"

* * *

Everything was warm and looked and felt a little like home. The basket (so Mary Margaret that it gave her a little chill) and the china plates, the metal fork with flourishes around the handle and the cloth napkin. These were courtesies she had not expected and that she struggled with for longer than a little. She had thrown a micro pity party a few minutes before, alone and hungry. She had pictured a lump of stale bread and a pitcher of water for supper and her eyes had watered a little. And then she pulled herself together because that's what she did (and she was Snow White's prisoner and this was not the Bastille. Nor the Enchanted Forest.) And it would not do, that kind of behaviour. She was a queen if not in fact than at least in title and she would do well to behave as such. But when the Sheriff walked in and placed the basket in front of the bars and she felt the scent of warm food that had not been fried at Granny's, she had to fight tears of gratitude.

Emma did not miss it, the way Regina's eyes shone more intensely and how she lowered her head the way she did when she was trying to hide a reaction. She did not miss the sigh of relief. She wasted no time in serving the two plates. She'd had dinner at Snow's but Regina needed the company more than she needed the food. The woman touched the cloth napkin and held the fork as if she had decided never again to take any of those things for granted, her expression unguarded for once, allowing Emma to read her accurately for once.

"David cooked" She said apologising in advance, her face one of hopeful acceptance that Regina had seen that very first day in her driveway. But this time, she could smile this smile that welcomed instead of push away and she could accept this wonky affection Emma wanted to give. Despite how afraid she still was. She smiled through the lumpy mash and the slightly burnt chicken. A smile that included Emma and brought them closer into this place that they alone dwelled. "He burnt it… a little."

Regina hated mash. It was food for weaklings, the chicken was salty and burnt. "He did, yes…" It was the best meal she'd ever tasted. She smiled to herself. It tasted a lot like affection.

Emma ploughed valiantly through her second burnt, lumpy dinner of the night. They needed to prepare a defence. They needed to anticipate all that the accusation would say, they needed to defend or deny those things. Hell, Emma needed to hear those things first. She needed to know and get used to it. She needed to defend it in her own heart first. She needed to believe Regina had reasons to do whatever she had done. She needed that more than any law degree, more than luck, more than reason. She needed it for herself. She moved closer to the bars, closer to Regina, both sitting uncomfortably on the floor, both not caring. All that was important was their hands together through the bars, because their shared warmth was the way they communicated more effectively, the way neither shied away from the words none had much experience saying out loud.

"We need to prepare a defence, Regina."

"We?"

"We. As in _you_ and _me_ kind of thing."

"Are there no lawyers in Snow's new realm?"

"I don't think there are any of anything. Lawyers or doctors or teachers. Or bakers or shopkeepers. It's like everyone just gave up." It was not totally true. It was not totally lying either which was important. And it did reflect Storybrooke accurately. No one wanted any of the roles the curse had attributed to them. They wanted _to go back_ which was a general term of dissatisfaction more than an option on location.

"So… you're my lawyer…" What worried Regina was not Emma's competence. God only knew how everyone had muddled through law and medical situations without so much as one day attendance at a conventional school. What worried her was how much of the truth the sheriff could take. Having to tell Emma the truth about her. She was not prepared to let go of this, whatever this was that made her feel less alone than she had ever been in her whole miserable life. She did not want to see the disgust in Emma when she had to tell her all that she had done to keep herself alive and functioning.

"Yep."

"I see." She didn't, not really. Not through the sudden fear. Anyone's judgment was fair game. She could deal with it. She hadn't changed that much that she could bring herself to care what any joe, dick and harry would think of her. In the end, it would not make a difference. A villain was a villain no matter why or how come. A villain's only destiny where she came from was to be defeated- a script that never changed- and to be made an example of. But if she could keep anything for herself, she wanted a little of that night. She wanted a little of that uncomplicated and unreserved affection. She did not want to destroy that. Not to try and fail to save herself. She would prefer damning silence to an apologetic speech that would bring her no absolution because there was no absolution to be had.

"I asked Ruby and Leroy to take over tomorrow. I thought we could sit together and come up with a plan. You know… a strategy. You can give me an idea of what's going to be said in there and maybe… a reason or, hell, Regina, anything." Emma tried to be reasonable, to appeal to Regina's self preservation sense but the woman only nodded as if she was merely placating her. She felt dread build up in her. Their fingers together over the bars seemed to be taking all of Regina's attention. Emma chewed her lip. She needed to get through.

"Why did you kill your mom?" The question ripped Regina off her trance. Violently. Her eyes were intensely black, a single colour of mourning as if there had never been anything else to her but that torment inflicted by her mother. Emma had known it for minutes and it terrified the life out of her. How would it have been for Regina to grown up nurtured by it? Had there ever been a time Cora had not been like that? Had there ever been a moment she had been a mother?

"Because I hated her." Emma's bullshit meter flared up. _Liar liar liar_ it screamed.

"Try again, Regina" Regina's hand cupped Emma's forcefully, squeezing with all her strength.

"Please…" The word was a broken sob. Emma saw it as if it had been narrated for her benefit: Regina was holding on to her hand trying not to lose touch with the reality that she was no longer in her mother's grasp. Trying not to be sucked into it- her- again.

Emma wanted to fight this battle for Regina which was as surprising now as it had been before, but the dragons inside you, well, they're a different kettle of fish, aren't they? There are no swords, no guns to slay them with. There are words and there are gestures, Emma reminded herself. Her forehead touched Regina's through the bars closing the space and distance between them. "Try, Regina. For Henry… for me?" _Why would you even ask that?_ But it was said. And she wanted it to be true.

"She cursed my baby…" _Stop right there!_ Emma did not want to hear anymore. Nothing good could come from this. Nothing at all. "She cursed my baby because it was a girl and Leopold already had a daughter." She looked at Emma then. Regina did not know how to pray. She had forgotten long ago who to pray to, who to believe. How to have faith. She had no prayers, only her eyes in supplication. "_What would he want with another girl,_ Mother said." The tone of the words would haunt Emma forever. It was empty. There was nothing left of Regina in there. "My felt my baby dying inside me. _You have no heart_, Mother, I told her. She said _Of course not, Regina, dear. I have a head on my shoulders, which is far more important_. That's what she said when my baby died. _Have a male. A king!_ She told me to _be a good girl and_ _birth a king_."

Emma was paralysed, struck dumb. She felt she was losing control of her bodily functions, like she was going to pee right there and then, or vomit. Or scream. She wanted to scream. But Regina was dead calm. She wanted to fix Regina. Emma Swan of the hero complex wanted to fix Regina as if she were a broken doll and she had superglue in her hand. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_.

"_Off with your head, Mother_ I told her. You know? I used a spell she had tried to teach me. I never had any magic before, Emma. I was useless. She told me so herself. But for the first time it worked. Her head came off. It was easier than cutting through butter. Just like that."

Emma understood. She honestly did. She felt it too, that need to kill Cora over and over and over again, as many times as it took, in bloodiest of ways until the anger subsided. "Good for you!"

"All magic comes at a price, Emma." Regina said in a mock sing-a-song voice.

"What price?" One day she would know all there was to know about where Storybrooke came from. She would understand the price of magic without having to ask.

"I can't have children of my own. That's the price I paid for retribution." Regina's hands were burning again against the bars, but Emma was holding her in place, inside herself and she wasn't getting lost again, no matter how much it hurt being back to that moment when she realised the magnitude of her loss. It seemed every single act of rebellion on her part had always been punished in the strictest of ways. Daniel. Her child. Her ability to have children. Her father. Snow. "After that… what was there to care about?"

"I would kill her again. For this, I would kill her again."

"I don't think she can be killed."

"I don't get it. She was alive. She was fucking alive when I saw her. _I_ killed her."

"So did I. But she was alive enough to kill my father. And take his heart with her."

Emma wanted to tell Regina that it was OK to cry. That she understood. Only she didn't. She had never lost anything because she had never had those things. And giving Henry away was her own choice. Nothing had been ripped away from her. Understand? No. No she couldn't possibly.

* * *

_It was a dream, because it felt like one and it looked like one. The Regina she knew did not cuddle. And yet, it was clear as day, Regina was leaning against Emma, Emma's arm around the woman's back, the other disappearing in her front. The air itself breathed peace and, oh good god, _love_. And when she moved to face them, she saw it, Regina's distended belly, full of life, and Emma's hand gently caressing it, all protection, all love. All family._

Snow awoke with a gasp, sweaty, her heart hammering in her chest. She cried then. Regret, envy, jealousy. Even betrayal.

_It's not real. It's not real, _the Queen whispered to herself and she burrowed into James' arms. _It's not real._

* * *

Having broken down so thoroughly, Regina didn't quite know how to face Emma. Not that she had much choice. Or any. Not with the bars in between them and, certainly, not with the tight grip Emma had on her hand.

"Boss?" Leroy made it though the entrance of the cave bringing with him the blessed smell of coffee. Emma responded to the smell of coffee, waking up with a _coffee first, Leroy, talk after._ Leroy was not to be deterred, though, which Regina admired in anyone as long as the defiance was not towards her. "Actually, I wanted to speak to the Mayor, if it's all the same to you, sister."

That got Emma's hackles up. "Leroy, so help me…".

"I huh… when I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong, OK?"  
"Have you been drinking on the job?"

"Why? Just because I used to drink it don't mean I'm a drunk…" Emma gave him the _actually it does_ look that needed no words. "Look, I just wanted to say sorry, OK? To the Mayor. The queen… or whatever. I had no business being all… troll that day when they… _we_… took you." Emma's jaw dropped a few inches. "Being in Storybrooke actually beats the mine and an axe in your hand every day. As far as I'm concerned, no harm done in coming here."

Regina simply slid onto the cot behind her, not quite sure she could comprehend the words. Not quite certain that they had been addressed to her, her legs just giving under her. Where were her snarky remarks when she needed them the most? She could deal with dislike, distrust, and outright hate. But she was absolutely not equipped to deal with… _this_.

Unable to reply, she merely nodded towards the dwarf.

It had to be the strange emotion running through her like a river through a parched land, but when Regina made a grab for her coffee, the one Leroy had brought her as peace offering, her stomach revolted and spasmed violently. She threw up until the dizzy spell receded and her throat felt on fire. No coffee then. OK, she could deal with that. It was just the emotion. Or a stomach bug. Who knew what those Charmings had cooked up.

* * *

The former King George entered the cave without so much as announcing itself. "What now?" Emma snapped. "Just because there is no door, doesn't mean this is an open house!"

He was not really her grandfather, Emma dispelled it in her head. He was not James' real dad, thus, not family. Which made it ok for her to hate his guts. Thoroughly.

"Easy now, Sheriff. Or should I say Princess? No?" He pretended to consider. "Counsellor? Maybe not." The derision in his tone aggravated Regina. He took a few more steps to come face to face with her. "Be that as it may. Is the defence quite prepared?" He was talking to Emma but, really, he was measuring Regina, measuring the impact of the words. "The… Crown… will be demanding the capital punishment."

How on earth had she not recognised a queen in Regina before the curse broke? Regina rose from the cot and sauntered to the bars, carefully not touching them. It was as if she was walking in the rose garden of the White House and not on the subterranean jail she was kept in away from the sun and the fresh air. And the way she approached dear old gramps was a good enough show that she feared neither him, nor the _Crown_ and as if a trial was a trifle thing that held no weight over her head. As if nothing could touch her. "You will do your best, George. And, like at so much in your life, you will fail." She smiled in that way she had that made people think that she knew all their deepest, darkest secrets and was about to air them. George, it seemed, was not immune to that smile, because he could come up with nothing better than a _we shall see_ and turned on his heel.

"No need to dress up for the trip, Ms Mills." he shot from the entrance. "The bars will not open, so I hope you find this venue comfortable as you will not be leaving it any time soon."

Emma gave him a look that was her version of an extended middle finger. It had none of the punch Regina's packed, but it was heartfelt.

Regina sighed deeply. Emma leaned against the bars. "I'm scared, Emma." Nothing in her life had ever felt like such a bitter sweet victory. Emma craned her neck through the bars and stole a kiss. Their very first kiss since the curse had broken.

"Me too."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Storybrooke did not have a court house. There had never been any need for one, but of all the things Storybrooke did have, she couldn't remember having designed or wished for any of them. Things had turned out that way, designed by the curse- or the curse maker, not the curse caster. Whichever way, Storybrooke did not have a court house, so there was room for some improvisation: The Evil Queen's case was to be heard in the events room of the town hall. There was a large desk for the new Queen to sit – though there had been bitter arguments by Cinderella's father-in-law that she should not preside over the trial on the grounds that her daughter was the defendant's _bed mate_ (though god knew what adjectives were used in more private setting to describe Emma). There were two smaller desks for the Defence and Prosecution teams and a chair for the witnesses.

All in all, it looked almost like an episode of _Law and Order_.

Though, most likely, _Law and Order_ did not have backstage fights to get to decide who would preside over the proceedings or how to call witnesses or even how to organise the process. It seemed that the only thing of importance was that the outcome here be Regina six feet under.

When Regina thought about it, there was some comfort to the inevitability of it: it saved her having to defend herself. It saved her getting her hopes up. No Hope, no disappointment. If she had thought she stood a chance, she would have tried. This surrender was a peaceful one. She was tired of the struggle. Knowing the outcome in advance of the play, meant she could relax. Meant she could concentrate on Emma's presence at her side.

* * *

Emma did not trust the fairies. She did not, more specifically, trust the Blue Fairy as far as she could throw her. There was something about the woman that made her left pinky finger itch. And that was never a good sign. But the moment the fairies magically opened the bars of Regina's cell, she could have kissed every single one of them. And she did gloat, a little at least, when the Prosecutor saw the bars opening. It turned out, fairy dust was a real asset and the fairies had a small, small stash that they agreed to use. Even if it made them jittery about releasing the Evil Queen into the midst of Storybrooke.

Her particular dislike for the Blue Fairy was only accented when the woman put an implement around Regina's neck made of the same metal (forged and tempered with the same magic as the bars) around Regina's neck. It was designed to impede magic and it looked incredibly like a dog's collar. It made her so angry she could barely breathe.

It burned. The collar around her neck was heavy and it burned her skin like the bars did. The Blue Fairy gave her a knowing look and lingered fastening the collar, waiting for a reaction from her. She adjusted it over the black turtle neck that Emma had brought, but the heat soaked through it. She breathed deeply.

"I trust Your Majesty is comfortable?"

Regina couldn't quite push past the knot in her throat, so she merely nodded. _Let's play._ And kept the burn secret from Emma.

* * *

Regina blinked and stumbled against Emma when the first rays of sun hit her at the entrance of the mine. She took a clean, fresh, deep breath of air and holding on to Emma's arm, she climbed onto the school bus that had been designated her transport during the trial. It was occupied by former White Kingdom soldiers, designated to guard her- well, to guard everyone from her. Most of them she knew, not only from Storybrooke, but from her days at the White kingdom too. She never forgot a face. And these were hard set with hate and not a little fear.

She let herself be pulled into Emma, tucked against her White Knight. She wanted to enjoy it while it was offered. Once the litany of her crimes had been read out, Emma was unlikely to offer her a tissue ever again, let alone this warmth radiating from her that made Regina forget that, more likely than not, in a couple of days, she would food for worms.

* * *

Snow wished for a dimmer switch for the noise coming from the room. Every one – and that meant EVERY SINGLE ONE of Storybrooke's citizens was sitting in this room, built for a tenth of the present occupancy. It was making her edgy and she still couldn't quite shake up the bitter taste _that_ dream had left in her mouth.

Her head ached, her ears buzzed, her stomach hurt from the acid churning in it. She was desperate for all of this to be over and done with. There weren't, after all, many options available.

She knew when Regina walked in because the room went utterly silent and then it all exploded in a torrent of insults and catcalls and some butts left their seats, eager for the lynching portion of the proceedings. She saw Regina stealing herself and raising her head high, her features serene. She couldn't help but feel even if just for a second, a little jealous, a little proud of that composure. And then she looked at Regina's midsection, hoping and praying she would not find a hint of a bump. She studied her features, her walk. Nothing seemed to have changed. Nothing at all. She told herself, over and over, that it was not possible, that biology would not allow for it. But magic… well, magic did not heed to biology, did it?

The din of the crowd was threatening to bring the house down. Emma stilled her progress and pulled Regina into her protective arms. Unnerved by the sight, Snow whistled the crowd quiet.

It was satisfying to see them obeying. She would and she could get used to this power again. It felt comfortable, a right fit to her hand.

Startled by the _unqueenly_ whistle, the crowd stilled the abuse, falling silent. Emma and Regina made their way to their assigned chairs and sat bereft of briefcases and paperwork that the prosecutor seemed to have in spades.

Snow approached her microphone and spoke to the crowd. "This is not really an appropriate room for this. The acoustics are poor at best and there aren't seats for everyone. I understand the frustration. We all deserve to be here. However..." She paused briefly to let the word sink in. "Make no mistake: the next person that speaks out of turn, the next person that makes me do that again loses the right to be here."

"Now, let us begin. The prosecution, please."

* * *

Not for the first time Emma admired Snow. This was not the same woman she had been living with for the better part of a year. And not only because of the obvious deference people extended to her. There were subtle shifts: the tone of voice, the deportment, the light in her eyes. The sheer pluckiness of the attitude. Emma liked this woman. She liked the assertiveness and decisiveness that Snow wore so easily. And yet, she missed Mary Margaret. She missed the woman who, for all her meekness, was less threatening, more approachable.

Regina's hand searched hers out, finding comfort. The first miracle had happened: Regina had been removed from her cell, the very same bars they had been told would not open ever again, had opened. Emma was able to put her arms around Regina and hold her close.

Her semblance was steady, her gaze unwavering, she did not flinch. But through their hands laced together, through their bodies connecting, Emma could feel the bone deep tremors fear was causing.

She wished she could offer better comfort, a hope, But they both knew such words would be a lie.

The prosecutor took to the front of the room. The play was about to begin. All the players and all the audience were at their prescribed places.

"We are gathered here to, together, find some peace. There are things we have lost. People. Years. The magnitude of our loss cannot be atoned for. The magnitude of our loss can only be avenged. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. The prosecution will call out every single one of Storybrooke's citizens. We were all _spat_ into this land by a vengeful, criminal, remorseless heart. We all deserve to bring our case before this court. We all deserve to be heard. We all deserve to be a part in bringing down the monster that sits before us, hiding behind the simple affections of a princess who, herself, was cast into a cruel world a new born babe, with no one to fend for her.

The prosecution will expose the crimes, the manipulations, the aggravations inflicted on the people of Storybrooke for every single one of those crimes must be documented- not to justify our decision, our request for the death of the perpetrator, but so that we all have what has been done to us brought to light, so that future generations may understand how evil operates, how evil corrupts. How evil must and will always be defeated.

The prosecution asks for the death penalty, Your Highness."

It was involuntary, it was a spasm of her hand, Regina told herself. She did not fear anything. There was nothing to fear. Death was just a moment. There was nothing she hadn't already lost. But her hand still squeezed Emma's hand, a convulsion of the muscles, a twitch, really. And yet, to the Prosecutor, looking directly into her dark, dark eyes, nothing transpired. Though he had wished it so.

* * *

Emma felt it, that fear that made Regina's muscles spasm. She felt it acutely. "It's ok to be afraid, Regina." And in front of the whole of Storybrooke, the White Knight kissed Regina's forehead, a silent vow, and stood when Snow said, her voice just a little hoarse, "The defence".

"I wish I had decades of practice at screwing with people just so that I could stand here and make a pretty little speech asking to have someone killed…. Dear old Gramps, who just fed you the good old _burn the murderous witch_ crap, seems to have an awful lot of practise at that, what with trying to kill James- my dad- and my mom in the same turn of phrase. Comes easy to him, it looks like…"

Some shifted uncomfortably in their seats, others shuffled their feet. _That's right, don't get comfortable, this is not Jerry Springer._

"But you know what? I actually don't. I don't want to dismiss a life so easily. Good does not triumph when it takes lives. It just surrenders. Someone told me, a while ago, that evil is not born. Evil is created. I don't think there is an excuse good enough for what happened to you. To all of you. All of us. I don't believe there is justification enough. But I do believe –strongly- or I would not be here, that there things that we should know, things we should understand before we go ahead and met out a punishment that will bring no peace.

"An eye for an eye and we'll all be blind in the end. I cannot understand how it is that killing a woman will bring back what you have lost. I cannot understand how you can possibly believe that. You all look at me for a saviour. God knows I have very little idea of what that is and that I have been scared plenty by it. But I am not _that_ confused that someone would have space enough to hide behind my emotions. The heart wants what the heart wants. Mine wants Regina.

"You know the one thing worse than the devil himself? The way we portray it. Maybe by the end of this 'trial' you'll learn a thing or two about that."

Emma was still for a moment, centre-stage, unable to decide if she had said enough. Then she simply moved to her seat, feeling defeated from the outset. It was like trying to win at poker with someone else counting the cards. But Regina slid her cold hand into hers, quietly, where the crowd could not see it and whispered to her "It's OK. It's OK to be afraid, Emma."

* * *

Henry could hear well and clear from the outside, perching on a tree branch, occasionally peeking inside. He could hear the little break in Emma's voice. He could hear the things they shouted at his mother when she walked into the room. And he could see, well and clear, how she held her chin, how she pretended all was OK, that nothing hurt. There had been a time when he scraped his knee in the tarmac and had to be taken to the hospital to have it cleaned and dressed. It had hurt, hurt so much until all there was was that throbbing knee. And then there had been his mom's warm hand on his forehead and a whisper in his ear: _pretend it is ok. Pretend it doesn't hurt. If you pretend hard enough, it won't._ It wasn't really true. It still hurt. But he pushed past the fear of Dr Whale's touch and it really wasn't that bad. He hadn't cried, he hadn't screamed. It was only just a little flinch really. Just like his mom's when Emma's sort of granddad finished his speech. She was pretending it didn't hurt.

He climbed down and sat hidden by the foliage of the maple tree. He hugged his knees and rocked a little. The motion was soothing, helped him think better. His mom was the Evil Queen. Everyone knew that. So why did he miss her so bad?

_The heart wants what the heart wants_, he heard Emma saying.

* * *

"You may call your first witness." Snow found it difficult to hide the revulsion in her voice. None of the memories she had of King George were of a fair man, neither in this world nor the previous one. He seemed to enjoy seeing fear and his shoulders squared a little more. As if fear fed him.

"Your Majesty" He inclined his head to her, but it seemed more like an insult that a deference. "The Prosecution calls Emma Swan, the Sheriff of Storybrooke"

_Praise the gods that chivalry was easily remembered in this land as it had been in the last_, she thought. It did ensure she had a seat. A seat that was as good as centre stage. From there, she could see Snow's unease when she looked at her stepmother (it was as if she was looking for something so very intensely), the slight hitch of the Evil Queen's shoulders, she could hear the Saviour's stormy breath, her gasp when good old George called his first witness. She could feel every pound of the _saviour's_ booted feet when she stood and walked towards the improvised witness stand. George was a sadistic bastard (and well she knew all his proclivities- as she did everyone else's) and this was his typical aggressive opening move. Oh, this was far, far better than _Shark Week._

* * *

Emma felt much like a dear in the headlights which, she reasoned, was much the effect the old bastard was going for. She was, perhaps, being childish, but her expression was sullen and her feet stomped the floor when she walked to the witness chair. She was not vengeful by nature, but this he would pay for. Like he would for that little chit chat with Mary Margaret. She steeled herself to remain calm and not to let him get a rise out of her. That was how he had gotten Mary to practically confess to a murder that had not even existed.

He approached her with a paper in his hand. He pretended to study it.

"This is you at age 3, is it not, Sheriff Swan?" And he showed her the picture. He was going for shock, she reminded herself. This was like a game of pool. You had to break hard and fast because if you did, your opponent wouldn't even get to play. He turned the picture to the crowd. "You seem happy in this picture." He was not even looking at her. Just concentrating on the crowd. "I believe that there weren't many days like this, with pretty dresses and balloons." He gave her time but she remained silent. "In fact, this was taken on one of the very last days with this particular foster family was it not?" There was an attempt at sympathy, a lowering of the tone of voice, an emotion that he tried to convey, not for her benefit but for that of the crowd. "It appears to me, from briefly reading through your file, that three years seems to be a maximum any one family kept you around. Must have been incredibly taxing…" Again with giving her the space to talk. When she didn't, he gave Snow the picture. If he was trying to punish her for her silence, he succeeded. Snow's eyes glazed over the picture, her finger traced the hem of the frilly pink dress, the strands of blond hair in the aged photo.

"Do you need a moment, Your Highness?" But it was not really about her mother, was it, because the moment he felt the crowd measure Snow, pity her, he took the picture and he slammed it under his palm on the table in front of Regina. "I wonder what you, Miss Swan, would have become had you not been taken from your parent's tender loving care. I wonder what you would have made of yourself if you hadn't been passed around like an unwanted package for 18 years of your life. I wonder," And he unfolded a front page of the Daily Mirror with her arrest photo, showing it to the crowd, "if you would have birthed a babe behind bars at a time you yourself, were little more than a child. I wonder if you would have had quite such a destitute life, so deprived of the innocence it is any child's right." It seemed to Emma that that picture of her at 19 would forever be coming back to haunt her. "But I don't have to wonder, do I?"

* * *

Regina's disorientation was hard to witness. She was pale, almost gray. Emma thought for a minute she was going to throw up. She saw her swallow and saw her fingers trace the image on the photo, so much like Snow's had done. Like she had something to say, something that was bubbling in her throat and made her repeatedly try to swallow. It was not a happy place for Regina where that picture had taken her.

To Emma, it was an irritation to have her picture exhibited, exploited, like it had not happened often enough before in catalogues of orphans printed to pull at rich heartstrings. But it was sheer abuse, to see both Snow and Regina so turned inside out by something that could not be changed that got Emma riled up.

"Was there a question for me in that speech or am I in this chair just to decorate the room and illustrate a point?"

"Your Majesty, I do believe this witness may be hostile and I would thank you for your permission to act accordingly."

"No"

"Your Majesty?"

"No, you do not have my permission to abuse my child. I don't quite know how to put in legalese for you. I missed a lot of episodes from _Law and Order_, but have a care, _Counsellor_."

Snow too observed Regina. She observed her carefully. She observed the way her hand trembled when she saw the photo. She observed the way her eyes had glazed over, the way her throat worked over something that seemed to be stuck in there. _That's right, stepmother, understand what you have destroyed._

It took him less than a second to regroup his thoughts, but slightly more to disguise the hate in his eyes. "I will rephrase, since it seems I have not been understood, then. It would benefit this court to hear it from you, how her actions" he pointed aggressively towards Regina, "made you suffer beyond the endurable, how the loss of love and protection and status that were your birthright made you struggle through life, how they have caused you to be so little when you had been destined for greatness. That is what I would like to know."

* * *

Her heart ached. It retched in her chest, it beat violently, it punished her, punished her for all she had done. She had expected shame when she had to face Emma about everything else. She had not thought of this… regret. She had not thought that there would ever be a moment she could ever wish to take things back. Not even for her father. But this was it, looking at that photo of Emma, so small, so bright. So very alone. She carved her nails into her palms, hoping that she could avoid making a spectacle of herself. Hoping that she could- even if she did not really deserve it- to keep her regrets, her sorrows private.

And then she looked at Emma whose eyes blazed in anger.

"You know what? It would so very easy. We got ourselves a scapegoat, so why look further? But there is this: my mother and my father" She looked at Snow then, because this would hurt. She did not castigate people, she did not hurt people on purpose, but the truth was waiting. "_my_ mother and _my_ father put me in a wardrobe- which was the same as leaving me by the side of the freeway. They put me there not knowing where it was going to take me. All in the hope that I would come back to save them. To save you all. They sent me god knew where, for god knew how long, in god knew what conditions just on the word of a fairy that it would all work out. Guess what? I would rather have stayed. No matter how hard, no matter how poor, no matter how long. But that was their choice. Their choice alone. Regina cast the curse, but the decision to send me away- the decision to abandon me was theirs. Theirs alone. Do not blame this on anyone else."

Snow's heart broke. Irremediably. It was crushed to dust, because it had always been Regina's fault. Since she had surrendered and sent her baby away, since she had remembered their lives, losing her child had always been Regina's fault. How could it not be? She had been left without choice, had she not?

"The same way that having Henry, giving him up was my choice alone. Do not take that from me. That was my choice! No one forced me into the back seat of a car but the bastard that got me in there. No one forced a decision to keep him once I took that pregnancy test. And no one took him from me. Those were my choices. Mine. No one else's. You have already called me stupid and now you are calling me a victim. I am neither. So save the platitudes. Save them and, while I am being hostile, shove them."

"I think I'll take that minute now", Snow excused herself before taking the gavel and hitting her table when Emma fell silent. The silence in the room was just a formality. Everyone's thoughts were shout out silently. Unsteady on her feet, she pushed from her chair and walked until she could find a restroom where James found her, on the floor, her face a mess of tears and sadness and rage and unscreamed words. He pulled her to him because it was the only thing he could do.

* * *

Emma wanted to follow Snow and James wherever they had gone. She wanted to make things ok with them. There was no use insisting on guilt. Her life was fact, not a battle ground. Assigning blame and handing out guilt was not going to make any of the old wounds go away. But she could not leave Regina sitting in the middle of the Events Hall and expect her to survive. She wanted peace. She wanted her parents, even if she didn't quite know what to do with them, how to relate to them, how to be a daughter. But she wanted to learn. She wanted to learn about being a daughter, a mother, a lover. She was done with the alone part of life.

Snow retuned, her face macerated by tears and anguish but still queenly. She sat again, flanked by James. "We will adjourn this session until tomorrow. I don't know about you, but I have taken as much truth as I can take for one day. Tomorrow at the same time."

* * *

The same palace guards surrounded Emma and Regina, ready to take them away. As they would have pulled Regina to her feat, Henry moved towards them, and placed his book on the desk in front of Emma, looking at Regina dead in the eye.

"You will need this. When they start saying things, you will need this." He fidgeted, shuffling between one foot and the other. Clearly, there was something stuck in his craw. But he was just not going to have it out today. The guards pulled Regina to her feet, making her stumble against them.

"Careful" Henry screamed. He did not quite reach for her, did not touch her, but he didn't have to, did he?

Regina's hand instinctively reached for her son but he pulled back, denying her the contact. Her hand fell against her leg and stayed there until the guards took it to pull her away.

* * *

She tried to occupy the least space possible, tried to reduce her body mass to an insignificant portion. To disappear, perhaps. Her body ached for the dark of her cell, for a remote corner of those stone walls to blend into. She wanted to make her peace with that file regarding Emma she had obtained when Emma was only Henry's birth mother, when all she wanted was a weapon to drive the annoyance away. The things she had read, the sealed records, the school reports, arrest pictures they all put a new weight on her heart. Emma was a wonder of survival instinct, of adaptability, of humanity.

_The heart wants what the heart wants. And mine wants Regina._ No one, not in her very long life, had actually said that out loud. No one had wanted her so actively. And it was jarring that this _want_ came from Emma who, no matter what she said, had been condemned to her life by her actions, her choices, her anger. Her hate.

She wanted to let Emma hold her and feel her heart beating against her. She wanted it so very much, but she felt she had no right to it. That, more than anything, kept her from eye contact, from the touch of a comforting hand. That begged for that dark corner in her cell.

* * *

"Lock me in there with her" Emma addressed the Blue Fairy.

"Princess… That is inappropriate." Emma did not bother with a reply. She shoved the fairy and moved into the cell. "This is against the rules, Princess!"

"Call me princess one more time and I swear_"

"It feels we're making the rules up as we go along."

Emma and James spoke at the same time. She pulled the door bars closed and it sounded like hot metal hitting cold water when the iron bars closed.

Snow approached the bars close to where Emma stood. "I'm sorry. Emma I am so sorry."

Emma held on to the bars feeling, for the first time, the heat they generated. "Snow… Mom. Please don't. We make choices. That's it. We play the cards we are dealt." Emma reached out her hand cupping her mother's face, drying the ever falling tears.

"Did we make a mistake?" James asked.

"I can't help but thinking that you did. I spent too many years believing that no matter the circumstances, you had made a mistake in abandoning me for it to be easy now to say that you didn't. But there is no point now. I love you any way. Just like Henry loves me. We made our choices but to dwell on them moves us no further, does it? I love you."

"Were you going to kill her?" The question was for Regina, even if Snow could not really look away from Emma, even if she could do nothing but picture a little girl in a pink dress all alone in the world because she had not fought to keep her. "When you cast the curse and stormed the castle, were you going to kill Emma?"

From her dark corner, Regina clutched at her heart. Before it had been so simple, those half truths, the lies by omission. Today- now- it seemed impossible. "No." She knew what Snow needed. She needed a life line, a justification for sending her baby away into the unknown. If she could say that sending her child away had saved her life, it would somehow justify it all. For a moment, for Emma, and even for the child Snow had once been, Regina almost said _Yes_. She almost gave Snow that out. But it was not true. In her heart, that was not true. "I was going to keep her. I was going to take your baby… your happiness. I was going to take her and keep her."

The voice came disembodied from the back of the cell, soft and naked of sarcasm and cruelty. There was just truth in it, James could tell. Emma had come by her supper power from her father's side. "You could have had your own…"

The sob was soft, almost inaudible.

"No, no she couldn't." Emma, the paladin.

* * *

"You wanted me." There was no question. It was an assertion about an act of will.

"Yes."

"And not because you wanted to screw with her."

"There was a part to it, Emma. I wanted to take what was hers like she had taken what was mine. I wanted her to feel the loss. I wanted her to suffer."  
"But you wanted me." Again an assertion.

"Yes. I wanted a child. I have always wanted children. I wanted to be a mother more than anything. It's ironic, isn't it, that I did get to have a child through Snow, through you. Even if he hates me so much."

Emma pulled her to the narrow cot on the cell and draped herself over Regina. "Oh, Regina, it would be so easy for him if he hated you…"

"He came to us." Emma's hand soothed Regina where she could through the narrow space: she rubbed her arms, the skin warming to her touch.

"That he did. Now sleep."

"You want me."

"Yeah, I do."

"It's not easy for you, though, is it?" Emma sighed because it was not. It was difficult and it bit at her flesh and ached in her bones. "It can't be. I'm evil and there are all these things that I've done. Truly horrible things and there isn't a single redeeming quality to hold onto. It's just going to get worse. With every single person they call to that chair, you're just going to find some new horrible thing that I've done and it's going to eat away at you, that you want me. It will go against that moral code you have."  
"I know" Emma only snuggled Regina closer to her, breathing her in.

"Thank you. For all of this so far. For wanting me. For making me real. You make me feel real. No one ever did that before."

The cot was not really made for two, let alone two facing each other. But Emma turned Regina to her because certain things you look in the eye when you say them- words don't really say enough, you see? "I haven't felt like bolting yet. And I know what's coming. Sort of. But you are wrong about one thing. And I am going to prove it to you. Cross my heart. Now sleep." And her lullaby was the lightest of kisses on Regina's exhausted lips. "Sleep because I will look after you."

* * *

**Author's note: Sometimes, this fandom feels so young… Or maybe I feel too old. So I feel the need to explain why this chapter came out this way. From the very first episode, no matter how much I like Snow, I have disliked her intensely for letting go of Emma. I can't forgive her that. I have a daughter, you see, and I cannot understand Snow at **_**that**_** moment because, despite everything, I have always carried my daughter with me, in my teeth when I needed my hands to walk. I understand Regina suffocating Henry. I do not understand Snow letting go. No matter what, Snow is never going to be a better mother than Regina. **

**(Rant over, sorry guys)**

**Much love**

**Jane. **


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

This was what was commonly referred to as a _slam dunk case_. If he hadn't been so controlling, he could have even have relaxed and simply enjoyed the ride. Everybody knew- and hated- the Queen. Even the ones that had not dealt with her personally in their previous life. He made a mental note to start referring to her as "Evil Queen" because epithets had such power in the populace's mind. Punch lines were useful. They drove the point home and kept it there, fresh. The _Evil Queen_ was feared and hated and there was absolutely no way she was coming out of this trial alive (which served her right for being an impertinent… _woman_). Sure, they would have to go through the motions to respect the tender sensibilities of the reigning _monarchs _(and even in his head that sounded derisive) and that… _creature_ they had spawned. Trust Charming (because he was no James, not the like the first James anyway, that boy had been worthy of being his son) to be too weak to simply go ahead and do what everybody would thank him for. A pansy for all his sword yielding. Whipped as they called it in this land. By the wife and by the daughter. He was none of his blood, that was for sure. Killing the Queen was tantamount to slaying a dragon. No one mourns dragons. No one would mourn the Queen.

Still, because this was not home, they had to paint by numbers. It had been a strong beginning, calling Emma Swan to the stand. Maybe not as much as he'd expected it to be, but for the price of the admission, he had scored a point against the Queen and as a freebie, he had rubbed salt (and plenty of it) in Snow's wound. Snow White, the thorn on his side. He would need to finish on high a note. And if they wanted to do it by this world's laws, then so be it, because the Hunter was six feet under and if needs must, he would dig out the corpse and do a little show and tell to the court and that Emma-Bleeding-Heart-Swan and see how that left them.

It was important though to get all his ducks in a row. And this was a due he would have to pay. He wanted Gold and his influence sitting in that witness stand, hating on the Queen (oh, he knew there was bad blood aplenty there) and giving everybody the right impression: that it was a bad idea to displease the Dark One.

If he secured that- and why would he not- the insolent Queen would be as good as dead.

He would need to get the Sheriff under control though. This would not do. Not at all.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The feverish kissing was interrupted by footsteps coming down the mine's labyrinthic corridors. They had made love through the night, drunk on each other's scent and feel, through clothes they had not quite removed, in a bed not big enough for them. It was not enough and still, it was more than any of them had ever had, this absolutely not giving a rat's naked ass about the world at that moment.

James called out to Emma from the mouth of the cave and, figuring he had given them sufficient time for… well, whatever (he really could not process the thought of his baby doing… things) he walked in. He didn't want to look. But as he walked in, what he did was not about those… things, unspeakable to a father, but a gesture of tenderness, Emma pulling Regina's sweater down, Regina pulling a lock of Emma's hair out of her flushed face.

Maybe he was too new at this fatherhood thing, but even through the excruciating embarrassment, he felt pride that his little girl had grown to be a kind, decent person that could love like this (even if a disgraced queen).

"I brought you a few things" Emma stood from the cot and took the bag of clothes. He handed it to her through the bars. He presented a second bag to Regina. "I was not sure how to go about choosing. I hope it's OK."

She would not lie if asked: she was a little concerned with opening that bag. Magic had been released into Storybrooke and being bereft of any herself, she could not know what was in there. Could be anything, really. God knew she deserve it. But when she opened the bag, inside were only clothes. Her clothes, her underwear. An assortment of jumbled items as if he had been too charming to actually consider what intimate items he was packing. A notebook, a pen.

She wanted to reward him. She tried a smile. Smiles- the honest ones- did not come easy to her. It was limp smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Thank you."

How did this woman do it? How did she put that pretty smile in his daughter's face? "My pleasure." And it was not a lie. Because Emma was smiling at the exchange.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Ah, this was indeed a good place. George, the prosecutor walking into Rumplestilskin's shop. And she could well guess what for, though she did not need it because she did not even need to snap her fingers and she was inside listening to the conversation.

Not that she needed to intervene. She had, in fact, no intention of it. Whatever came out of this, she had already won. But it was ever so interesting to hear how these maggots went about the business of screwing with one another. It made her deliriously happy to know how they were all eating out of her hand, all puppets just thinking that because they could not yet see the strings, they were acting of their own free will. It gave her a thrill to know how much better, how much smarter, how much more powerful she was than all of the players in Storybrooke put together.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

It was a strange heightened reality they were living. It all looked so domestic, so normal if you ignored the magic bars and the earth floor. But here they were putting on fresh clothes and having breakfast together as if they did not have Regina's life on the line. But Regina was, herself, remarkably calm. As if she had nothing else to lose and was only holding on to the last ember of the fire. Fine, good, she could live like that too. But for this moment only. For now, there were only two people discovering how to wake up together.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The guards arrived. They moved like Storm Troopers, all of them as if they had ceased to be the individuals she met in the morning and greeted over bear claws and tipped garbage cans to be one entity commanded by a brain exterior to them. As the Blue Fairy opened the bars and again put the collar around Regina's neck, they moved to grab Regina and pull her towards the bus that would drive them to the Town Hall. There was brief moment of ill-disguised panic from Regina until Emma moved to hold her to her body.

The first day in "court" had reminded Emma of a precious lesson: mob mindset. So today she was prepared. She took a deep breath and tucked Regina under her arm and pulled her to the table under a barrage of insults, catcalls and hatred. When they sat, she rubbed Regina's back until she felt the woman relax her stance. Regina remained stoic and impassive through it all. Good. That was good. She worried less while Regina gritted her teeth and sat a little straighter. Pissing her off was still a good way to bring out her strength.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The Prosecutor was still seething, stewing over his conversation with Rumplestilskin. The deviant imp had simply smiled that smarmy, disgusting smile of his. "I'm not currently in the market for deals, deary." Maybe it was because this was not the Enchanted Forest but the cursed being had yet to revert to his serpent like appearance of old, but he certainly reclaimed the mannerisms quickly enough, mostly, George knew for a fact, as blunt instrument of intimidation. "I have nothing to gain either way. Think of me as a…" Rumplestilskin giggled, "Student of human nature. I have no desire of interfering with the subjects of my study."

"Name your price."

"Well, well, well. It seems you are not quite so sure of yourself after all. But be that as it may, you have anything of interest to me, deary."

Pissed and mean, George revised his strategy. He only had to remember that this was in the bag. And that all things being equal, then he might as well piss Rumplestilskin while he was at it. He just needed to get his game on.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"I assume," Snow hit the gavel on the table for silence. "that everybody managed to remember that there will be no speaking out of turn in this room. There was none of the flair from the previous day when she had whistled the crowd quiet. This Snow was a lot more like Mary Margaret than Emma was comfortable with. There was a little venom dripping out of her voice, of the gazes she shot Regina. She was hurt and angry and Emma would have to deal with it. Her mother. She would have to deal with her mother's feelings and expectations. They would have to sit and just talk it out.

"I would assume as well that the Prosecution is ready to call their second witness."

"The Prosecution is ready and calls Jefferson, the Hatter"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Her Papa was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Grace sat by the Prosecutor simply because there were no seats in the room safe for the one he had offered her, a sit right at the front. She did not like it very much. It felt like she was a trinket in a shop or a painting behind exhibited. She regarded the Queen with a fear that was that of the girl her father had asked to hide when he saw her. And yet, Mayor Mills, the one she knew from living in Storybrooke, she was one slip of a woman, barely taller than she herself was. But Papa knew best. Papa was the smartest, most wonderful man in the word and if he told her to run, she ran, if he told her to be afraid, she was indeed afraid. She wanted this to be over soon. Papa said that the Queen had to die. That it was the only way. Her Papa walked to the stand and it seemed like all the time he had left her alone with the neighbours had melted. He was the best father in the whole wide world. He was going to avenge them, the time they had spent apart. She liked the way he said that word. _Avenge_ seemed like a good word. It was noble and worthy. He was going to avenge them.

She had never seen Papa remove the scarf around his neck. When the prosecutor asked him to reveal what was underneath the silk, she knew that it was bad by the way his hands shook. She knew it was bad by the look of pure hatred he gave the Mayor. Queen. Whatever. It was horrid and ugly and Papa had to have suffered a lot. And then Papa began to speak and to tell how the Evil Queen had tricked him into taking her to Wonderland. How the Queen had left him behind to be decapitated, unable to return to his daughter. She felt herself blush when the prosecutor pointed at her and commented on _how precious_ she was. She did not feel precious at all. She felt like a bad girl for wanting that white rabbit. Had she not wanted it, had she not looked at it in the market, Papa would never have gone with the Queen. Had she not wanted things, Papa would not have been taken from her.

But Papa hated the Queen so much. He had told her so. He had told her he would make sure she died if it was the last thing he did. She believed him. She was sorry that this was Henry's mom, though. She liked Henry and Mayor Mills had never seemed like a horrible person. And if her Papa was right and she was responsible for the curse, then she had never wanted for anything. She'd had a good father, a good mother, a good home. She'd had for those years all that her heart could desire. Simply because she had never remembered to desire her Papa. It was all very confusing.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma turned to Regina and whispered. "This is it, Regina. This is what we're here for. Help me please. Help me now, because shit just got real."

Even if she wanted. Even if she could muster it, Regina had nothing to say in her defence. She had taken Jefferson from his daughter and then left him behind. In her mother's realm. And well she knew what happened to people in her mother's realm. When Emma asked her to say something, anything to help with her defence, she simply couldn't.

"I left him with my mother, Emma. Nothing I say will excuse that." And it was as if she had closed off.

When Snow called her to interrogate the witness, Emma was lost. What was there to defend? Regina had left Jefferson behind- and she too knew damned well what that meant, to be in Cora's care- leaving his daughter alone.

There was no defence whatsoever. She remained seated, defeat weighing over her, the crushing weight of being, perhaps, on the wrong side. Jefferson was mad as a bucket of snakes and she could understand why. She would be too. Regina remained with her eyes firmly on her lap, weighed down by guilt.

"I have only one question for the witness." Regina took her hand and tried to pull her down. Emma took a moment because for a second she had this hope that Regina would justify herself. To others. Hell, to Emma, herself. She needed Regina to offer her something, a token of justification. Anything that could alleviate the weight. But it was as if she was not interested in being defended, as if she wanted to spare Jefferson all she could. "How long did you watch Grace through your telescope, Jefferson?" She could still remember the way he sharpened those scissors. The way he drugged her, the way he used Mary Margaret.

"Twenty. Eight. Years." He spat the words carefully, aiming them.

"So you were here for the duration of the curse?"

"Yes. Every single one of those days pining for a daughter that did not know me for who I was to her. Knowing she was there and that she was missing in my arms. Not having the luxury of forgetting about her."

"Did the Queen of Hearts release you? Did you manage to make the hat she huh… commissioned?"

"No." Jefferson seemed confused in that disturbing sort of way he had and she felt sorry for him. But only a little. She could still smell the fear in her own skin and she could still see Mary Margaret's terrified eyes. It had not been an idle threat, the weapon he turned on her.

"The how did you get away from there?"

"I… huh… I…" Emma could feel his agitation. She could feel how he desperately sought the answer for himself because he too could see where she was going with this. Smart Man. Smart and unbalanced. And she would do well to remember that.

"Did you get out by your own means?" He was angry. He was angry at her and she could feel it rolling in waves off of him. "No? Because I can tell you that the only reason you left, the only reason you are here, today is because Regina got you out. And you know that too, don't you?" Jefferson was livid. Frozen solid inside his own skin, only a feverish look in his pretty (in an axe murder sort of way) eyes. "You know because when I, the saviour, forced you to go back with me, when the Queen of Hearts tried to kill us both, she said _Tell her that she owes me a Hatter_." There was a noise from the assembly. Emma could not quite be sure what it meant. She was focusing intensely on Jefferson, because it seemed that he was too close to jumping off his skin, volatile as ever. "Regina took you out of there with the curse, didn't she?"

"No. NO!"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Her Papa always did things like this. He was always trying to give her things she had no need for. That rabbit, the clothes, Mayor Mills' life. On every occasion she had told him he was the only thing she needed. He never seemed to listen. For a moment she missed her parents from this world, because they were so good at not having to give her things, at giving her only what she truly needed.

She knew her Papa was lying when he said "No".

Her Papa was such a good man. Why did have to lie?

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Screw what other people would think. As soon as Snow hit that gavel on the table for a recess (and god knew that she had she needed this one more than she had needed recess during maths classes in junior high), she signalled James to sit with Regina. "I need to speak to Mary… Snow. I need to speak to Snow." Her feet were hitching to go, her fingers were nervous, her tongue thick and uncoordinated.

James touched her hand with his. They had similar shaped fingers. What an odd thing to notice.

She made her way to the restrooms. She didn't quite know how to approach Snow. Certainly she did not know how to approach a mother. She'd never had one to practise on. She'd never had much by the way of friends either, but it had to be easier to speak to Mary her friend that Snow her mother.

What would she say anyway? _Sorry I hurt you but I lived with this shit all my life?_ When she found Snow, it was in a pensive moment, staring out of the distorting window pane at the shadows created by the trees outside.

Emma struggled for how to call her. _Mom? Snow? Mary?_ God, she was doomed. She almost turned around, but Snow's shoulders were slumped in a sort of defeat she could not bear. She walked to her mother. Her mother- and touched her shoulder. It felt a lot like being jet legged, this non-age difference between them. It was so strange. Stranger than never having had a mother and now having a readymade one that lived up to every single one of her childhood dreams- only 20 odd years too late. It was such a bad joke.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"You had to live through it, Emma. To understand, I mean. Through everything falling apart around us. You had to live through it to understand."

"I guess."

"Your father wanted to keep us all together. There was just one place in that tree and… you came too soon. He wanted to keeps us all together. I should have listened. I should have… She was not going to kill you. I never thought… I loved her once. She was good to me. Like a mother. And then… I thought she was going to kill you and you… Ah Emma…" Snow turned then, faced Emma. "You were so little. So pink." Her fingers traced the basic architecture of Emma's face. "So perfect. And I thought that I could… not let her win. I sent your father to put you in that wardrobe. And you spent your life going through things that I don't even have the imagination to conceive of."  
"Mom."

The sigh was a keening sound, something taken from the deep of Snow's soul.

"She did a good job with Henry. If she had taken you…"

"Snow. Mom. Listen… I love you. You're a good person. I love it that we became friends. Not many people can say that about their mothers, huh? You made a choice. You made a choice at that moment. I wished you had kept me. Who knows what would have happened then. But this is where we are. I love you."

Mary Margaret was such an easy person to be. She cried and laughed all in good time with life. Snow was a lot more cautious. A lot more of everything. More courage and more cowardice too. Stronger but also more breakable. She missed being Mary because being Snow, well, it sucked sometimes. Being a princess, being born and bread for power did not leave you much room to feel embarrassment and fragility. And right now she was all of those things.

"I wish I could hold you again. Like you were then. I miss that… It's the oddest thing. The diapers I should have changed, the fevers I should have soothed, the teething. The tantrums. Those should have been mine. All I have of you is the memory of those precious few minutes before the wardrobe. And I miss those things. I miss them and I never had them."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

When Snow came back, she looked younger. Brighter. Lighter. She looked more like his Snow before the curse. He missed that Snow. The happy go lucky Snow that stormed a castle and got it back from her stepmother. The Snow that fought and laughed. This was a good moment.

Emma returned to him and Regina and placed her hand on his. His fingers clutched at her and even if he had missed all those things he hadn't even known he wanted- the first step, the first word, the first tooth- he had his child back. The sense of accomplishment was probably misplaced, but it felt good to sit here and see her take a stand, to keep right on standing when everything that was being said in this room must have been a blow to her. He liked this daughter that had come from him and his true love. He liked her as a person. Respected her. Not many fathers can say that about their children.

She kissed him. On the cheek. A peck only. But he felt he could pick the world from its rotation and offer it to her if she needed it.

He did the next best thing: he took Regina's hand and tapped it softly, a gesture of encouragement. "In the end, it it's going to be OK." And even though he had no clue what that mean, that _OK_, he had absolute faith in his Emma, that she would make it happen.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"The Prosecution calls the siblings Hansel and Gretel."

Yep, he was going to bring in all the kids. The sympathy card but in reverse. He was going to make it look like that Regina ate children for breakfast and spat their bones out before noon. _Bring it on_.

The twins sat straight as rulers in their chairs- once Gretel knocked some posture into Hansel. They did not need much encouragement from the Prosecutor. Gretel seemed to have watched every legal show on TV. Regina had straightened on her chair. Ramrod straight. Her face did not betray one single thought. Emma leaned into her. It did not look good. It did not look good at all. She needed something, anything at all. A justification. A reason. An excuse. Anything on why Regina would have taken these children from their father. Why she'd sent them into the witch's house. She needed anything, but Regina simply closed herself off like a clam. And at the front, George was painting the devil and decorating it with bells and whistles, showing a heartless Regina, snatching a hardworking father from his children, leaving them alone in a forest full of dangers, and then forcing them into the lair of a cannibalistic witch. And he was doing such a stellar job of it that Emma herself felt her heart break a little for the kids. None the least because of what had followed in Storybrooke when she had tried returning them to their father, with Regina opposing it at every single turn of the screw. Regina was a bitch, well and truly. And still, she loved her. Even when she could not justify or understand her. That did not sit quite well in her gut. Not well at all. But she didn't know what to do with those feelings, both the disgust and the love. She couldn't even separate them.

Regina's hand was closed into a fist, her knuckles white. Her throat was working convulsively as if she too was trying to swallow an unpalatable truth. Emma turned to her and, in truth, waited. Waited for something that might absolve or at least, make it look not so bad.

There was nothing but stoicism from Regina and Emma wanted to erase it from her face. The hard way. She would like to see regret and, for more than a moment, she could have beaten it into Regina. She would like to see an emotion, a strong one, a reaction to what she had done. Emma would kill for a single look of regret from Regina. But nothing came. Only that damned stoicism. Which was a lie in itself. It pissed her off on account of both the stoicism and the lie.

And that Regina still had secrets, still kept secrets from her, aggravated her too. She wanted the truth now. Only the truth, thank you very much. She deserved the truth from Regina. Even if she had to keep it from everybody else.

"Why?" She took Regina's hand in hers and though it looked like it to everybody else in that room, there was no tenderness in the gesture. Only anger and frustration. She squeezed her hand over Regina's clenched fist and the intent was clear. She wanted to cause pain. She wanted to squeeze regret out of the woman. As if that could ensure there was nothing left of the evil queen to extract. "Why did you do this?" She whispered.

It had to hurt. Devil knew her own hand was hurting from the pressure she was exercising over Regina's delicate bones. Regina did not give an inch. And then her reaction was a classic attack. "That witch had an apple I really wanted."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

_The book, Emma,_ Henry thought out loud from his perch on the tree. _The book_. He knew it as well as the palm of his hand. Maybe better. And because this had been the very first story that had pointed out to him the truth that his mother was the Evil Queen, he knew it better than every other. He had seen himself so many times as Hansel, brought to her simply as a means to an end.

And maybe it was the truth. Maybe. He was confused as of late, unable to raise the banner against her as easily as he had before. And there was no vindication to be had today with her silence. Just a nagging feeling that there was more to even simplest of truths.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma leafed through the book. It was a nervous gesture, more than anything. She remembered Regina sneering, the taunts, the malice. Her picture on the front page of the newspaper. She leafed through the book and it opened on the final page of the twins' story, Regina inviting them to stay with her. Promising them the world and a pony for them to stay with her. She remembered that Regina so overwhelmed before she brought her heart back. She remembered the anguish when she had let go of Henry. The hand she had closed over Regina's, the hand she had almost used to break Regina's, itched and burned. She wanted to cut it off.

When the Prosecution finished his tirade, Emma rose and looked at the kids. She remembered the affinity she had felt for them, the abandoned orphans, just like she had been.

"I have only one question. Not really important. It won't change anything, but… Did she ask you for anything?"

"Besides going into the witch's house?" Gretel quipped. The kid was bad ass. She had that same defensive energy Emma had in spades that came from too many years looking out for herself and anticipating threats.

"Besides that."

"No."

"She did." Hansel was definitely the meeker of the two. Gretel gave him a pointed look, loaded with a _shut the hell up_ quality. Emma approached them and laid her hand in his arm. "She asked if we wanted to live with her. Said we'd be happy."

"But we didn't believe her." Gretel added. Her words were the ones that had effect on the crowd. The mumbles and grumbles that Snow had warned them about, intensifying.

The effect on Emma was different. And it was very unsettling.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow closed the session. They seemed to be making very little progress. In two days they had heard from three people. Storybrooke was a town of victims. There wasn't a single person in there that would not point a finger at Regina. So in all likelihood, this would take forever. And she was tired. She hated this. She hated the feeling of having her daughter against her. She hated how unsettled her world seemed to be. As if it would only fall back into place once this problem was… sorted. In her heart she knew that sorting the problem would mean Regina dead. Regina alive simply did not sort the problem. And she was just tired enough not to sensor her thoughts. She'd heard just about enough to feel justified in the sentence her mind seemed to have already passed. Regina had to die.

She asked Emma if the defence was finished. It bothered her that discomfort in her child's gaze.

"I am. Unless the Prosecution is intending on calling any more children to the stand today."

"Not today, no, Miss Swan." The Prosecutor replied haughtily from his seat.

"They seem to be your greatest asset, Gramps." George bristled at the epithet.

It amused Snow how easily Emma needled the old bastard. And how rattled he was by one single word. He too had his own little secrets, his secret stash of shit that he did not want to see aired. How Emma was not really his granddaughter was something he could do well without her reminding him of it. It was fulfilling to see him squirm.

"I could call every single one of the peasant children to the stand too, Sheriff. You seem to forget that we have a school full of them. Every single one of those unfortunate souls ripped from their land and brought here, to this one."

"Sure, let's do it." Emma walked to her seat looking tired. "I would hate to miss on their views on how hunger and lack of vaccines and working with their parents from sun up to sun down beat their warm beds and the video games and schooling in Storybrooke. I'm sure none of the Storybrooke elementary and secondary school pupils can wait to return to the Enchanted Forest and that _enchanting_ reality." She closed the book and pushed back on chair as if she truly was waiting for his next call to the stand. "Children do make for pretty decoration."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma spied Henry perched on the tree when they left the Town Hall. She saw his serious little expression, the worry etched into it when they were loaded into the school bus that would take them to the cave. She wanted to show him to Regina but she was busy trying to make herself small at the back of the bus. She was looking out of the window, but really, Emma knew, she was simply staring inside. And the view must have been terrible.

She sat by herself, stamping down on the impulse to offer comfort. Regina had to look inside. She was bound to feel the weight of all she had done. In way, Emma thought, it was not a bad thing because we all have to deal with our failures, with our guilt. And survive it. She wanted Regina to survive this. And ultimately, that would mean survive herself. Awareness was a gradual, unsettling burden. She wanted that Regina. She wanted to love her because she already loved the one that was a victim. But that was the really hard part. And from the looks of today she was doing a less than stellar job of it. Her hand burned still.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

When they arrived at the cave, the Blue Fairy was already there. She removed the collar from Regina's neck and this time, she made no comment to Emma getting into the cell as well. She simply pushed the bars closed and walked away, a subdued walk, all meekness and understatement.

Regina moved into the darkest part of the cave and sat on the cot. Emma was again in there with her and there was nothing Regina would have wished for more at that moment than privacy to deal with the spoils of the day, with the bitter feeling in her mouth, with the weight on her heart, that heart that was finding it increasingly difficult to beat steadily under the weight of the guilt.

She could not blame Emma. She knew this was coming. Emma with her moral code that had preserved Henry's life when she had found herself pregnant and destitute. Emma that did not jump ship. And if Regina let her, she would go down with this one. And wasn't it ironic that she wanted nothing more than to preserve her from that, from the failure that would come with her death.

It was a small pity party, but she would rather die alone than to let Emma live through it and blame herself. If only she could find the strength of her beliefs.

Emma came to sit next to her. "I'm sorry"

"What on earth for?" She couldn't quite tack the Ms Sawn at the end of the sentence.

As her only response, Emma took the hand she had squeezed. She studied it and she could still the marks her fingers had left behind. She took it to her lips and kissed it softly, a pointless action if she wanted to erase the bruises. Each of them stayed, each of them a finger pointed at Emma. "It's difficult, at times."

"I imagine so."

"Is that why you had nothing to say? I can't do this alone, Regina. I need your help to save you."  
"What if I am beyond saving?" Emma stopped then. Her heart, her kisses, her fingers.

"No." She went on her knees at Regina's feet. "No, you're not." Her hands went to Regina's legs and slipped up to her thighs and settled at her waist, pulling that body to her, her head pressed to Regina's mid section. "Absolutely not. I am the saviour, remember?" Regina's hand ran through the wild mass of curls. Emma was a princess all the way, from her heart to her hair. "You wanted children so much that you wanted to keep those two, didn't you?"

"There is hardly an excuse there, Emma. They said _no_ and I threw them out into the forest."

"I know."

"And you're ok with that?"

"No." She pulled away then and looked straight at eyes that seemed to have gone beyond grief and shame and were staring right at an abyss. "And I don't understand it, so don't expect eloquent explanations, but I…" She hid her face in Regina's midsection again. "I think I love you and… it would make me happy if you would stick around for a little while, maybe a long while."

What was it with Emma that it was so easy for her to plough through her defences as if they were nothing but sand? What was it with Emma that made it crying such a simply thing when for her it was always easiest to simply not let the world know what was wrong? The only way she knew how to cry was to suppress those tears. Emma was the only person that had known what the absence of tears meant.

They stayed that way for a long time. Until Emma fell asleep on her knees at her feet. Until Regina picked up a blank notebook and called it _Diary _and wrote in it what was wrong. What hurt.

_When a monster stops behaving like a monster did it stop being a monster? Does it become something else? _


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

_It was, I think now, the appropriate response to the life I was leading, the life I was being led through, the madness. Insanity. It felt good. Like shooting stars in the sky. A step above the dreariness, the slowness of life until it slugged in my veins, neither better nor worse than death. All was loneliness. The indifference of the court, Leopold's, Snow's… that was worse than hate. I was the unwanted, the unlovable. It tasted like death, like ash in my mouth. _

_The viper of Agrabah was the moment the survival instinct kicked in, that possibility that I might just survive Leopold, losing my baby, losing… her. It was like a shooting star in the sky and I made a wish and reached for it. Around me, all were shooting stars which I followed and followed, always just a little too clumsily, just a little too slow. _

_Ah, but the thrill of the chase. It made me bigger myself. The shy Regina that had loved Daniel was lost over time, first the definition, then the body until all that was left was a Cheshire cat smile hanging in the air._

_I was mad and didn't know it. Not all the time, I didn't. There was only what I saw in the mirror- the bold colors, the bold make up, the attitude, the strength. Sometimes I knew it was not real. There were ruptures in the fabric, but they too (the fraying and ruptures) became reality. But with that madness, came power, power, power. Shooting stars. When you don't worry about fairness, all you have is power. _

_That Regina chasing shooting stars, I don't know what of her. She is as a foreign to me now as is the Regina in riding attire, no saddle on her horse, unbridled heart. Maybe they are both dead under the rubble of my life, under the debris of the curse. _

_Sitting here with Emma's hair in my hands, all softness and split ends, it's hard to mourn either woman. If I make an effort, a face grows around the Cheshire smile, becomes limbs and body and weight. Someone new I don't recognize, who abhors the shooting star chaser, fears her. _

_There are no shooting stars in Maine. Only Emma's hair._

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

It was impossible to know whether it was light or dark outside. In the cave it was always dark, a pitch darkness relived only by torches that never ran out (she supposed them magic) hanging from the uneven walls carved out of the stone. So when Regina awoke, Emma's head still in her lap, though she had managed to move her into the cot, she simply stroked the blond curls lightly, waiting the time away, pen running through the grainy paper. The torch light played with gold reflections on that hair, reminding her of shooting stars in the sky where she came from.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Jefferson had learnt to be invisible. Like the Cheshire cat, there was only a smile. It was the smile of purpose that hung in the air. He was going to avenge his loss. He was going to avenge 28 years he had pined for his daughter, seeing her through the lens, so close but unreachable. That strength of his purpose was formidable. When he heard that Rumplestilskin was not jumping into the accusation witness bandwagon, he knew that he had to do something.

He walked into Storybrooke General Hospital and, as if he'd truly been invisible- people do not really want to see you, do they- he got himself a set of scrubs and made his way to the loony bin, laced tea in hand.

He used the commotion, some sick little boy dying upstairs (Storybrooke had better become reacquainted with death as a fact of life because now people actually got sick and died) and passed the tea on to the bored nurse slash warden at the entrance in the basement. As she collapsed onto her desk, already asleep (because Jefferson lacked the courage of his convictions) he took her key and opened the door to one of Regina's dirty little secrets: Belle French.

He bundled her into a coat, never mind her confused state and pushed her out of the door, with only the most basic of instructions: "Get to Mr. Gold and tell him that Regina kept you". It was simple, it was brilliant and he could not be anywhere close to Storybrooke until the fall out. Jefferson and his invisibility moved out of the hospital, a sigh of thanks for dying little boys that provide cover for Cheshire cats to enter mental facilities.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Granny opened the doors to the diner when it was still dark outside, nothing but the pale moon still in the sky. She went about the business of pulling chairs from the top of the tables and setting them in their business position. Then she filled the ketchup jars and sugar pots and set out the pastries delivered by the baker. When she raised the blinds, the unrelieved darkness of the night was begging to lighten in the east. She saw the Hatter moving in his quick stride towards his mansion in the outskirts of Storybrooke. He was not quite right in the head, that one, no sir, but what bothered her about seeing him at that time of the day was the fact that she was seeing him at all. She would have pegged him for the type that would not leave his child alone, not after what had happened to the poor unfortunate soul. And yet, there he was, trying to look inconspicuous. And failing miserably. Whatever he had been doing, he was smiling broad and wide. And it was a smile that made her teeth hitch.

As it was none of her business, she moved back and gave one final wipe to each the counters and tables. She fired up the coffee machine and waited for the system to heat up so that she could get her own guilty pleasure and part of the reason she got up at that time of the day: a cup of hot, strong coffee that Dr Whale had long forbidden because of her flailing heart.

"Excuse me."

She would not lie: she almost peed herself at that moment. Her heart beat erratically for a few seconds. She turned once she had it under control, her hand reaching for a weapon she had taken to keeping under the counter since she had sniffed magic lose in Storybrooke. At the door was a new face. A girl that looked like she had just escaped the mental asylum, her hair mussed and clothes that, if her vision had not declined in the last few days, looked a lot like a hospital Johnny.

"Came right in, dear, and close that door."

The girl moved with uncertain steps as if she had not walked more than two steps in the last few years.

"I am looking for Mr. Gold."

"And I'm looking for Baby Jesus." Granny mumbled not so much under her breath. The girl looked terrified in the fluorescent light, blinking desperately. "What would you want from him?" And now she was prying. She hated prying. She hated gossip. But this was not a common situation. This was new face in Storybrooke. She had not tested the limits of the town herself, but if strangers were coming to Storybrooke, they certainly should not be asking for anyone by name. This was trouble in two legs and doe eyes.

"I was told to find him." The girl was silent again. Seemed like she was as unused to talking as she was to walking. Granny took one more cup from the warmer and poured a second cup and passed it to her.

"Drink this. It will push away at the cold of the night."

"Thank you… That is very kind."  
"Granny. You can call me Granny. Everybody does around here. What's your name, dear?"

"Belle." She took the cup in her hands and looked suspiciously at the black liquid. Granny held her cup and took one languorous sip. She let the liquid fire her up from the inside and do its little miracle. Then she concentrated on Belle again who copied Granny. "It's bitter. What is it?"

That gave Granny pause. "Coffee. Have you never had any?" Belle took one more sip.

"No."

Quick on the uptake, Granny once again sipped her coffee. This was interesting. A new face that came from the past and not from outside. She would have to get to Snow and the council.

"Well, drink up. There is plenty more where that came from. Then I'll take you to Mr. Gold."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma looked pretty in her pink princess dress. She looked like a doll. She approached him and she was smiling a really wide smile. "Hi Henry. Got something for you."

He hoped vaguely for a comic book. Or that new game for his console. Instead, she reached behind her back and pulled out a doll. "Emma." He felt exasperation. His mom always knew what he liked. She had never offered him dolls. He was a boy, for chrissakes.

"Look closely, Henry." Why would he even look at a doll? A doll was a doll. Even if it was dressed in the same pink princess dress as Emma. But he looked closer because Emma asked. And then he noticed that the doll was a breathing child, a miniature of Emma from the pink princess dress to the blond hair. He wondered briefly if this was perhaps a toy from the Enchanted Forest, their version of an action figure or a Barbie, until he looked at the doll child, startled to realize that the only thing that did not seem photshoped from Emma's face were the pair of deep brown eyes he had only ever seen in one other face: his mom's.

He screamed until his throat gave out on him and Snow came barreling into his room to hold him to her. He might have said at some point "I want my mom" though he could not quite be sure of that.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina awoke from her semi slumber by what she could swear was Henry screaming. Her back hurt from the sitting position through the night. Emma was still in her lap, her face still turned to her stomach and Regina's hands were still on the blond curls. She traced the contours of Emma's face, slowly so as not to wake her up. Emma had the lightest of slumbers. She supposed it was because she had not yet lost the need to vigil at all times. Not that she was giving her any respite in that sense. She was a burden on Emma and it still amazed her the graciousness with each Emma carried it. Her.

When she raised her eyes, it surprised her to see Kathryn seating in a fold out chair someone had brought over.

"So it is true?" Kathryn said. There was nothing in the tone but the simplest of questions. When she pointed with her chin at Emma, Regina felt the need to protect the sleeping woman in her arms from whatever unknown threat this might be. Kathryn should have no love lost for her, though at a point she had been as foolish to think of Mrs. Nolan as an unlikely friend. "You two…"

Regina had no idea how to reply to that, having never had a conversation about affairs of the heart. Kathryn looked at the former Mayor and saw fear with an underlying current of determination. "Just tell me why you kept us apart." Kathryn's hands were in her lap, tightly secured by her own will. She did not want to appear nervous. She just wanted an explanation. And she would not leave without one. But Regina looked like she could not put and two together. "Frederick and I. Why did you keep us apart? We have never done anything you. I had never met you back there."

Regina went through a catalogue of names. Frederick. Her mind evoked a tall blond man. Athletic. Kind features. She was going to keep quiet. There was nothing she could say that would obliterate those 28, almost 29 years of separation as Jefferson had demonstrated. But Kathryn was the closest thing she'd had to a friend and Emma was still in her arms and for one horrible moment she wondered how it would feel like, living 28 years without her. "I didn't… know, Kathryn. I didn't know him or you."

"How did you work things out? I'm just curious…" Kathryn shrugged. "Like how did you decide that I was going to be a housewife without another function in life but waiting for a comatose husband to come home? Or how did you decide that some should be nurses and others shoemakers… I think it's a valid question."

It was. Regina herself had questions that she had never gotten answers to. The question was if anyone would believe her or not.

"I didn't. I didn't think much beyond how I wanted to hurt Snow and everybody who'd had any sort of happy ending."  
"So you didn't know what you were doing?"

Regina really hadn't known. She was embarrassed to a painful point. She had always tried to persuade herself that things in Storybrooke were the way they were because she had designed them so. "I had never cursed a whole world before. I wanted a few things specifically but… mostly, I just wanted it to stop hurting."

"Oh man… this is not what I wanted to hear. You cast a curse just like I have an aspirin…" Kathryn stood and paced. Then she took her chair and brought it closer to the bars, closer to Regina and Emma's sleeping form. "Did it work? Did it make the pain go away?"

Regina was not aware she was crying until tears started to plop unceremoniously on the back of her hands still on Emma's hair. She shook her head because she did not trust her voice. No, the curse had not worked to make the pain go away. But it had numbed it for a while. "No. It didn't. I'm sorry."

"Aspirin never works… Who decided, Regina? Who decided who was going to be what and be with whom?"

"I don't know." Kathryn rose from her chair and reached into her handbag. She took a tissue that she handed over to Regina, surprising both of them.

"We were friends here…"  
"I'd like to think so…"

"And yet, you had me kidnapped to get back at Mary Margaret… Snow, I guess." She had not thought of that. Not in those terms. Kathryn had been a means to an end. "In the end, I suppose you could really have had me killed. That is something to be grateful for."

"That you escaped with your life?"

"Sure. Aren't you ever thankful for the small blessings when the shit storm hits?"

Regina looked down at the mass of curls in her lap, shooting stars in her hands. "I'm learning to be."

"Well, then… Frederick and I are getting married." It was unusual for Regina to be happy for someone if that someone was not Henry. But genuinely, she felt happy for Kathryn. Or, she supposed, Princess Abigail. She smiled because she lacked the words to congratulate someone. All the words she knew were always laced with cynicism and derision. She wanted to say something real. Kathryn sat closer to the bars. "Are you happy for us?"

"Yes, I am." She just wished she could stop with the waterworks. She really was happy.

Kathryn stretched her hand across the bars and touched her shoulder. "Would you tell me, sometime?"

"Tell you what, dear?"

"Who hurt you so much that you had to curse us all just to feel better? Because it seems to me that if it had been just Snow, you could have sorted your problem just by cursing her and be done with it."

Regina thought that that was a promise she could safely make because there would not be an occasion to make good on it. She was scheduled for death and nothing was going to change it. "One of these days."

Kathryn smiled a kind smile and handed the contents of a basket to Regina and a thermos of coffee. "I brought you guys breakfast."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"I'm proud of you." Emma said with not nearly as much sleep in her voice as she should've had if she had just woken up. Her hand was rubbing circles in Regina's back as it seemed to be her default lately. She turned as much as the cot would allow to stare at Regina still fighting to keep tears under control. Those words brought a fresh wave of them. She wished she knew what was wrong with her these days, always on the verge of tears or any other form of a nervous breakdown.

"You were awake!"

"Only a little" Emma gave a sheepish smile Regina was growing accustomed to.

"She was my friend and still I…"

"Yeah, you're a right bitch, sometimes." Emma had this way of saying the truth but making it less about the punishment and more about the… what? Learning? No, more like an acceptance. "Let's get some breakfast. And then we can get this show on the road." But she didn't quite move.

"Emma?" Her fingers were still running rivers through Emma's hair.

"Yeah?"

"Getting dressed?"  
"In a minute or so." And she burrowed once more into Regina's stomach. Emma could get used to this… tenderness of which she'd never had much. Or any.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

He kept the shop open out habit, but everyone was queuing at the town hall for a sit. Bread and circus. Which suited him just fine because while Storybrooke concentrated on the Queen, he pursued other interests. He had no need to attend. It would bore him. He knew the outcome. A dead queen. The victory was his. The bell over the door jingled and for once, he was not expecting visitors.

"Mr. Gold" A voice that existed only in his nightmares called. It was the voice of his guilt. He turned, because how could he not. "I'm looking for Mr. Gold." But the words died in the air around her. "Rumplestilskin!" He was not the sentimental type and his mind played dirty tricks on him all the time. But when Belle touched his arm and it was solid even through the suit of this time and world, he knew it was true. And in his shriveled old heart, he knew why Belle was coming to him now: because that rotten, no good queen had kept her from him. His anger crackled in the dank air of the shop, for a moment animating objects that bound Storybrooke to him.

"I was told to find Mr. Gold. Are you Mr. Gold?" Rumplestilskin nodded and his vision narrowed to include only Belle. "I was told to tell you that Regina kept me."

That broke the dam. He pulled her to him, carefully avoiding every one of her kisses, and concentrated on feeling the warmth that came out of her. The whirling in the air around him settled.

He was quite proud of himself at that moment: first he settled Belle. Showed her to a room, fed her and found her fresh clothes. And then he went about the business of making Regina pay.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The bile rose in her stomach the minute Emma unscrewed the thermos of coffee. She made a beeline for the toilet bowl, sinking to her knees when the shivers raked her body. Emma was right there, pulling her hair back and offering comfort when the heaving subsided. And then it started again when Emma breathed coffee in her direction.

"What's wrong?"

"Probably food poisoning."

"You know, I won't tell if you just admit that you're nervous like hell and are finding it difficult to cope. It's only human." Yes, she supposed. Having a sword hanging over your head will do crazy things to your nerves. Like tie them around your stomach. She had spent the night before her wedding heaving into a waste basket just because she'd been so terrified and angry. She stood and rinsed her mouth.

"Just please lay off the coffee."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The conversation in the diner swirled the drain which was to say that, it always came back to the same point: why weren't they back in the Enchanted Forest. Red was sitting in the customer side of the counter in her shiny new deputy's uniform, making sure that Leroy, also in green finery of the sheriff's office did not season his coffee with anything other than sugar. With her cloak still missing and the full moon fast approaching, she was holding on to the hope that this being a new land, there would be no effects of her curse. She was in no hurry to return to the Enchanted Forest and she made it known. Mostly because she was not the kind that keeps secrets. What surprised her was when Michael, the mechanic, simply admitted that he was in no hurry to return to the Enchanted Forest either. His children were safer here; it was easier to provide for the family. "And", he said, "the amenities were far superior" and then winked at his third pastry of the morning.

They were not alone in the thought that _here_ was not so bad.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

There were fewer insults and fewer catcalls when Regina and Emma walked in. Snow looked tired but less withdrawn. And James had a goofy little smile that Emma decided it was not a good idea to speculate on. Everything else remained the same: The prosecution was still determined to hang or decapitate or burn Regina and Henry was still absent (though Emma could feel him perching in the oak tree outside the window).

When Snow hit the gavel on her desk the silence came easier in the audience. The Prosecutor walked to centre stage. He was almost swaggering. As if he knew something she didn't. "The Prosecution calls Geppetto."

Of all her time in Storybrooke, the old man had mostly flown under her radar. He caused no trouble and she knew little of him except that in his life as Marco he was Dr Hopper's unlikely best friend. She hadn't spared him any further thought until the Prosecutor called him by his old name. Then she put two and two together. Her own coffee made a bid for freedom at that point. She looked around the room for August (how on god's green earth was she ever going to call him Pinocchio) but he was nowhere to be found.

Just by the set of Marco's shoulders she could tell this was going to be a bad one. She needed no confirmation from the smirk on the Prosecutor's face or the angry set of Marco's expression.

"Good morning, my good man. Thank you for coming." The Prosecutor started and Emma could see and smell the bullshit immediately.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Marco spat and it felt like he was aiming it at Regina and herself. "This world or the previous one."

"I understand the sentiment. I understand the anger that would make you leave your son's bedside to be here today." Bedside? Emma panicked a little. With all that had been happening, she had forgotten all about August. All his delusions about turning into wood… Oh God. Except they were not delusions, were they? She turned to Regina for confirmation and even if she hadn't so much as formulated the thought, Regina nodded in understanding.

"My boy… my beautiful boy…" He took a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned copious tears. "I am not ashamed to cry." He faced the prosecutor as if challenging condemnation of his weakness. "My boy. He was a real boy. He was a real boy! And because of her" he stood and pointed at Regina unerringly, "he turned back into wood. Her curse. Her curse and I lost my boy."

"What do you feel would be an appropriate punishment?"

"Kill her."

There were times having a heart was the worst burden. This was one of those times. Regina knew full well the sentiment that animated Geppetto, that made him jump from his seat and point at her with such hatred that spit flew from his mouth. She knew because if she had lost Henry she would be out for blood and she would not sit in a court room waiting for permission to draw it.

"Kill her. Kill her." Marco screamed. Snow's hand looked out for his and held it, old hand in young, the same hurt binding them together. "Kill her" he whispered when his voice had given out and screaming was no longer an option. "Kill her. Please. Give me back my boy."

George was tickled pink and in no further need for platitudes. "Your witness!" He addressed Emma, barely containing the triumph in his voice.

Emma stood, unsure. She looked at Snow for guidance. She seemed to be friendly with Geppetto even if not with Marco.

"Geppetto." Snow called out to him softly. "Would you like a minute?"

He cleaned his face with the handkerchief and looked back at Snow. "No, Your Majesty. Sooner is better."

"Geppetto…" Emma struggled to find calm and kindness in her for an old man speaking out of grief. She drew a blank on how to proceed but then the room erupted in a barely contained thunder of whispers, Snow's threat ever present. When she turned, she was lost for words.

Pinocchio. Oh, she would call him Pinocchio alright- was standing in front of her. The same wooden toy from the animation but in his grown up version, looking remarkably like the August who had taken her to that roadside cafe and told her about the curse.

He moved slowly and with a clank here and there of wood touching wood, of wood touching the stone floor.

"Emma" He greeted her. There was nothing animating his features of solid wood, but the voice seemed to have a hint of mockery in it. "If it pleases Your Majesty," He turned to Snow, "And if the defense does not oppose, maybe I could talk to my father for a few minutes."

The room was deathly silent. Emma turned to Snow again and when met with the same expression she knew she must have in her own face, she turned to Regina. _What do I do?_

"It's his son, Emma. It's OK." When Emma nodded at Snow, it was like the suspended animation the room had been in broke and it all went back to real time.

Pinocchio approached his father and took his hand. "Father… do you really think that killing the Queen will revert… this?"

"I am sure of it."

"How can you be certain, Father?"

"Because" Geppetto's voice failed him then. "It's the only option we have left. I have lost too much already."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow had a bad feeling about this, but Geppetto had built the wardrobe that had saved Emma and that carried with it a debt of gratitude. And he was one of her oldest advisors. She kept his gnarly hand in hers. She understood losing a child. She did.

But Pinocchio was August and August had not lived in Storybrooke, of that she was sure and the feeling in the pit of her stomach was one of sinking, sinking, sinking.

"You know in your heart, Father, that that is not true. You know why I stopped being a real boy." And he placed his childhood trademark hat on Geppetto's free hand.

"No! That is not why."

And still Snow's stomach seemed to sink.

"She cursed us all to lose what we loved the most. She cursed me to lose you."

"You sent me away, Father. Away from the curse. If that were true, would I not have been safe?" Geppetto's hands in hers contracted painfully around her bones. From the corner of her eye, she saw James moving, not even aware of what he was doing, coming to her side. "_The sins of the father shall be visited upon the son_. You know it's true."

"It was no sin. I only wanted to keep you safe. I had already lost so much." Pinocchio's wooden hand stayed on his father's. But for Snow, it was like being stung by a snake. She pulled her hand, unable to stop herself.

"Geppetto?"

"My Father put me in that wardrobe, Your Highness."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Oh, the fools! They were going to ruin everything. No, not everything. Events were in motion and there was no stopping any of it. But they were going to ruin things. This was not the way it was supposed to go.

"There was magic enough in that wardrobe for two, and my Father made a deal. He made a deal and he secured a place for me. The place that should have been yours."

"You were such a good boy!"

Oh, for all that was holy and powerful, could they both not just die or something?

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"I traveled with Emma. To this world. I escaped the curse. For a few years, in any case. But he point is… the Queen has many sins. But I am not one of them."

"You were a good boy" Geppetto cried from his sit. And her mother seemed beyond anything now, hurt and betrayal in her face, tears flowing freely.

"How could you?"

"I didn't know the baby was coming… I thought you could take care of them both. I'm sorry. I am so sorry. But I'd do anything for my boy. I would do it again if I had to. Surely you must understand that."

She'd heard the story before, but because she had been unwilling to believe the curse, none of it had actually sunk in. But now, here she was looking at one more reason she had been alone all her life. Except that even now, if she was to be fair, the same way she exonerated Regina, she would have to exonerate Marco. And it was very, very difficult.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

It was James that called for a break. He wanted Geppetto out of his sight. He could forgive a lot but this sort of betrayal had a special weight. He had trusted a friend and his daughter had suffered for that foolishness. He gathered Snow in his arms and together they retired to their apartment.

The worst part was the shift of blame. It was as unsettling as trying to stand atop a galloping horse, to have to shift the entirety of the blame from one single person. He could have learnt to live with Regina's guilt for Emma's sake, but this? It made him wonder how many other times had he been betrayed. How many other times the ones that were supposed to be good and the counterpoint to Regina's evil had been instrumental to the destruction of everything they held dear. Geppetto sitting there, unrepentant put a whole new perspective on all their losses. His stomach turned on him and simply leaned against the closest wall and lost all its contents.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The Prosecutor was in a bad mood. The day had not started half as bad. The demented Hatter had woke him up before dawn to let him know that he had sorted the gold problem. In his sleep addled state, he had not given it a second thought. A Hatter without magic was as useful as an umbrella in the sunshine. He dismissed the crazy fool and went back to sleep in the certainty that the other old fool Geppetto would be a great witness with the sympathy card so evident it might has well have been tattooed on his wrinkly forehead.

He had started the first deposition with flair and a tone to pull at heart strings that he had practiced suitably. And then the wooden puppet clomps his way in and ruins everything. For a moment he had actually patted his pockets for matches, such was his rage.

He reviewed his notes. He still had a couple of aces in up his sleeve and he was not afraid to play dirty. Shame about the imp not wanting to play ball. But he was not without his own power and he would break that court room to his will, starting with Snow and ending in the Queen and her whore.

And then his phone rang. We could hear the rumble of hate in Rumplestilskin's voice.

"I hope you can fit me in this afternoon, deary."

Oh, did he ever.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The trial was good for business, Granny pondered. People were just walking in in the morning for coffee and snacks to have during the day's entertainment, stopping by for a sit down dinner or popping in for a take away bag at the end of the day and, as the occasion would have it now, a lunch break that was extending as Snow and James were still trying to cope with the result of the morning's affairs.

This was turning out to be quite the public laundry exercise. She couldn't say that she much cared for that though. She would rather respect people even if they did not fully deserve it than to have cause to fully dislike them. Because she got mean when she disliked someone. And such was the case with Geppetto whom she had liked well enough both as Marco and Geppetto, a sweet old man as devoted to his son as she was to her granddaughter.

But she could not quite forgive him. She could have sent Red… well, Ruby, as she preferred it, if she'd had the opportunity like he did. Any parent would. So he had not just stolen a better life from Emma, he had also stolen everybody else's chance at doing the same. Ruby would have certainly taken better care of Emma than a seven year old boy that had jumped ship- understandably- at the very first hurdle. Good boy indeed…

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Ruby put her badge in her pocket and hands to the task of serving lunch to the crowd in the diner. It was out of habit, she supposed, but then again, habit was a safety blanket in this conundrum. Like Granny opening the diner just 10 minutes earlier than she needed just to sneak a cup of coffee or Leroy carrying around a hip flask of hard stuff that he was no longer drinking.

Dr Hopper sat quite morosely at the counter and Leroy made for an equally silent lunch guest. They both seemed to be chewing down something particularly unpalatable. Ruby approached Leroy and did a quick pat on his shoulder that, for once, he did not turn into a leer.

"Something bugging you, handsome?" She moved onwards with coffees and sodas. He waited for her return to speak, which was nice of him, not nearly as obnoxious as he normally was.

"Been called to testify."

"Have you now?" Ruby picked up one more tray of orders from the cook's window. "And you what? Don't wanna go?"

"I don't like being on display."

"Afraid everyone's gonna notice the size of waist line?" He stirred his coffee until she returned to drop the tray with a sign to Granny for the check.

"I don't have a problem with being here. Why should I go and bitch about it?"

"Do we really have to go if we don't want to?" Granny joined from the serving side of the counter.

"I saw it on TV once." Dr Hopper leaned over the counter, joining in on the conversation. "Did some googling too."

"And?" Leroy, always impatient.

"The judge arrested the witness for contempt."

"Ah, come on. This is Snow. She'd sooner club you on the upside of the head with something handy."

"Quite. But she is invested in the outcome of this trial." Dr Hopper pondered.

Ruby propped her hip against the counter, all long lines and fluid movement. "Tell me that you're using the term loosely."

"I'm sure they're all doing the best they can, Miss Lucas." Dr Hopper got nervous every time he had to confront someone. Specially if that someone was Ruby, always hanging on his every word as if they were worth anything.

"Maybe. I got the call too." She confessed.

"Me too." Granny and Dr Hopper spoke simultaneously.

"Me too." Dr Whale approached the group and spoke quietly as it seemed to be his manner these days. It seemed like he was done climbing up female legs. Ruby gave him a look that was a particular brand of _I know what you did last summer_ but kept quiet. Granny slid a cup of coffee to him because she too knew all too well when someone was hiding something.

"Well, I for one, am not going."

"How do you figure, Ruby?" Leroy was doing a god job of mincing the sugar packaging he had not used in his coffee.

"I don't like Regina Mills. She's all attitude and holier than thou, but I like King George far less. And if we're gonna point fingers, I'm pointing mine straight at him. Or are we forgetting that he was gonna kill Snow and James if he'd had a chance? How is he so different from the Mayor?"

"Hate to point the obvious, because I think he has issues himself, but he did not curse a whole kingdom. That might give him some moral high ground."

"No, Dr Hopper, he didn't. But that's just 'cause he doesn't think big enough, if you ask me."

"Hum, lacked means and opportunity. Agreed, Ruby." Dr Whale spoke into his cup.

"I'm better here. I don't have a problem with being cursed to be in Storybrooke. I had 28 years without full moons. And I can't say that I miss them either."

"Here, here, Ruby." Dr Whale saluted from his seat, eyes still on the bottom of his cup. "I prefer it here. It's not like we have to live a script, pre determined roles and heartbreaks. There is actually a semblance of free will." Most of the last few words were mumbled, but Ruby had uncanny hearing. She tapped his hand sympathetically.

"And I'm pretty sure we are not alone in the sentiment."

"Yeah. Where do we sign up for the support group?" Leroy stood abruptly fishing his pockets for change.

"Leroy?"

"Later, Ruby." And he walked off, his stride angry.

"Was it something that I said?" Ruby commented when the door closed behind Leroy with a happy jingle.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Henry sat for lunch with Snow thinking that this_ grandparents_ concept was a grand one. He got to have the kind of indulgence his mom rarely- if ever- allowed. He was sitting with fries and soda for lunch and if he played his hand carefully, a chocolate bar was in the cards too. And yet, he missed his mom. Emma was another story. She seemed to be absent from his life more now than ever before. Always with his mom. It was a form of personal betrayal, in a way. Though he was a little bit thankful that his mom was not alone. Just a tiny little bit, though, and only at times. He knew about being alone and he could not say that he liked it all that much. Even if she did deserve punishment.

Snow was staring down the fries in her plate and James hadn't even attempted to eat anything. Henry supposed he could understand why, though he had never in his wildest dreams imagined that Geppetto would do something like that. It was not in the book and, besides, he was one of the good guys. He could not understand that. When the phone rang, Snow spoke in clipped tones. Something about a girl asking for Mr. Gold, coming from the Enchanted Forest brand spanking new. And about the Hatter being all happy happy about himself. Henry didn't quite like Jefferson. Even though he was Paige' true dad, just like Emma was his true mother.

This was something about his mom. He knew it for sure. He missed his book. He missed the sense of security about having answers – clear answers- from it, though it was more a habit than a true need, simply because he knew it by heart. He had a fairly good idea who the mysterious girl might be, that Jefferson was, very likely, connected to her arrival in Storybrooke and how that might end up being really bad for his mom. Somehow, it did not sit quite right with him to have his mom defeated by Jefferson. Or Gold. He was even worse than her and it was not a fair fight was it? He finished his fries and passed on the chocolate bar.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Hate crackled in the air around Rumplestilskin like a storm cloud. It served as a swift reminder to those in the room not only of his power, but of the deals done, of consequences met out, of things lost. It served, that storm cloud, as a reminder of the power and the force to be reckoned with.

In one of the few snarky thoughts left in her these days of carrying a heart in her chest, Regina was slightly disappointed he had not chosen to appear in his Enchanted Forest garb. Never mind that he was her mortal enemy, the one that had tricked and screwed with her the most in her life (safe perhaps for her mother, she was not keeping tabs). But he was perhaps the only one she could see coming at her. All others preferred coward stabs in the back. She could appreciate a full frontal enemy.

It did not take her a whole of one second to understand why he was there. It wasn't like him to play someone else's game, let alone someone clearly inferior to him such as the former king George, so she had to admit that her final safety valve had been breached and that Belle had been returned to him. She had only seen that particular brand of craze once and that had been when she announced to him – admittedly in one very good move on her part- that Belle was dead.

At the time she'd had magic on her side.

Now was a whole different ball game.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Henry had always wanted to get into Mr. Gold's shop and have a good look around. He believed- and he had believed for some time now- that Mr. Gold collected objects that belonged to other people because they gave him power over them. He believed he could recognize certain objects and he wondered how he had come to bring them from the other world. No one else had bought anything. Well, his mom might have. That crypt in the cemetery certainly had the same allure as Gold's shop as far as secret possessions went. He wanted to open his book and use it to navigate the shop. Certainly, he was willing to bet, the unicorn mobile had belonged to Emma's nursery. The only question was, what power could those objects hold. For a moment, he almost lost sight of the task at hand. But then he heard noise from the upstairs and that steeled his resolve. Grabbing hold of the straps of his backpack, he moved towards the back of the shop where he hoped he would find access to the upper floor.

It wasn't difficult to find. He was bracing himself to find a hidden door or something like that, but in the end it was a very run of the mill staircase. Which was kind of deflating.

"Hello?" A girl- for sure, the girl Granny mentioned, because, let's face it, who else would have the guts to get into Gold's place and hope to get out of it alive- peered at him with frightened eyes. He measured her when she stepped out from behind a door. "Hi. I'm Henry. We need to talk."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The only concession Rumplestilskin made to the "court appearance" as the term very loosely applied, was to leave the cane at home. He needed no magic for this now. In fact, it was probably best if he didn't have any at his disposal (well, safe for the one that came naturally to him in his land- which was not to be underestimated) because he might just lose the tenuous grasp he had on himself and just blast that cockroach of a queen (again he applied the term loosely) and be done with it.

But as far as effects go, his walking into the crowded room when that other cockroach George called out for Mr. Gold, was already a superlative one- all those little minds, with little bug eyes and greedy little hands shrinking in their seats. And he had missed it so very much he nearly cackled in glee. Until the task at hand was brought back swiftly at the feel of the queen in the room. The queen _and_ little Emma. _Unlikely bond between them. _One that he would enjoy severing with them both watching. He would come down to it presently. No need for magic. Words would do quite nicely. But first things first.

A show of public humiliation first and foremost. And if he had ever been tempted by self examination and self load- which he wasn't, not now, nor ever- one that would resonate a lot like his former self swearing fealty by kissing a boot in public.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Belle was funny. She didn't know anything about the things inside a house. OK, she knew what tea cups were and stuff like that- the basics, Henry supposed, but nothing about TVs or computers or washer dryers. Or even the stove. She couldn't make herself a cup of tea and she needed one.

So Henry made her some tea, for which she was grateful. And then some toast, because she was hungry and Gold had not even thought of explaining how things worked for someone who had, pretty much, just been dropped from the past into this.

And when he went about explaining the favor, she looked at him with sad eyes and touched his hand.

"OK" He was surprised because he didn't think that a cup of tea or toast with jam could sway someone's loyalties, but there you had it, Belle had agreed.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Rumplestilskin!" the Prosecutor greeted him. It wasn't a greeting though. It was a reminder to the room of who the seemingly affable man in the witness stand was, in a tone that wanted to say _at my mercy_ but that no one heeded. The Prosecutor defined his power by proxy at that moment. "Or should I call you Mr. Gold?"

"In this case, the name matters not."

"No, of course not. Rumplestilskin, then. How did you come to know the Evil Queen?"

"Oh, a deal here, a deal there. Whenever she needed… assistance, shall we say, I provided it. Whatever, whenever."

"For a price, no doubt."

"Oh yes, deary." This was Rumplestilskin. From the tone of voice to the mannerisms of the hands. Everything was coiled threat. "All magic comes at a price."

"So the type of assistance you provided was… magical."  
"Is there any other kind?" He said with a smile.

"So what kind of price are we talking about here?"  
"Oh… a nice little chunk of her soul here, a smaller one there… Why, I remember one particular spell I provided her with… that was a pretty little morsel of soul."

"Over the years, Rumplestilskin… how many deals are we talking about?"

"Oh, many, many!"

"How much of her soul is there left, then?"

"Oh, well, not much, to be sure."

"And what is the effect of the absence of a soul?"

"Well, _I_ wouldn't know, _George_." That ruffled George's feathers. Everything was going so well. The Prosecutor had felt like he was establishing a leading role in the interrogation, establishing power, as it were. And with one word, the ugly imp had to ruin everything. "Never you mind, deary. I'll tell you, though. If something doesn't have a soul, it becomes dangerous, unattached. Capable of anything." He assessed the power of his words. The tone of his voice held the audience captive, much like a horror film. "It will turn on those that love it. Kill. Use. Abuse. And for my money, I'd say the queen not only is preparing to do just that, but has done all of the above already. Do you know who she killed to enact the curse? Why, her very own father!"

He did not bother disguising the aim of his words. And if he was any judge- and he damned well was- He had hit home at least with one of his marks. Regina had deflated and seemed… rattled. He could hear her newly returned heart breaking all the way from where he stood. It was a beautiful sound. There was a rumble of murmur in the room. "And it seems to me she has the next sacrificial lamb all lined up and ready." He looked pointedly at Emma because he did not trust her to get his meaning without a little insistence.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Maybe it was true. She had always felt like there was something terribly wrong with doing business with Rumplestilskin. Her father had paid the price for that lack in judgement. So yes, she believed him. She had surrendered bits of her soul, one spell, one curse at a time. And none of them as big a piece as when she pushed her hand into her father's chest and scarified his feeble heart to enact the curse. She didn't know Rumplestilskin to lie. Not directly. No, he usually minced his words quite finely, but he did not outright lie. It was true then, there was no soul left in her. That was probably why Rumplestilskin wanted no more deals with her. She was out of currency.

She mired Emma sitting by her side. The resemblance to Henry so vivid. She clutched her hands in her lap, avoiding that steadying contact with Emma's skin. Yes, Rumplestilskin was right. She was dangerous. The ones she loved the most were not taken from her. She killed them herself.

She was toxic.

The murmurs in the crowd behind her were confirmation enough of Rumplestilskin's words.

Maybe she had enough soul left to save Emma from her own misguided kindness.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"You are not without loss yourself, though, are you, Rumplestilskin? Something precious was taken from you. Was it not?"

"Someone." Rumplestilskin's tone sobered. His expression closed off all the old mannerisms and left behind Gold's serious face.

"Forgive me, Rumplestilskin, but someone? You?" It was a well rehearsed maneuver. Emma could see right through it. If equaling Regina to him fell on deaf ears, certainly equaling Rumplestilskin to all the others that had already been to the witness stand certainly would garner antipathy for Regina and, she could see it coming a mile down the road, sympathy for the devil. Which was a win win situation for them.

She looked at the book. She had time. George had the stage and he was milking it for that it was worth. But answers, if there were any, the book was holding on to them.

"Yes. I know, I know. Me. Someone. But I wasn't always like… this. I loved once. Was loved too." Well, cue in the freaking violins, Emma thought bitterly. She would eat her jacket if this was the pure unadulterated truth. And Regina was pulling away from her. She could feel the distance growing even if she was standing right there. No matter how much Emma reached out, Regina found one more level to withdraw. It was making her nervous and losing her concentration.

"Would you perhaps elaborate?" Ah the sympathy card.

"She was… she…"

"Rumplestilskin, do you need a minute." Snow recoiled, the echo of her words to Geppetto deafening.

"What happened to her, Rumplestilskin?"

"She died."

Now _that_ was a lie. She was not sure how or why, but that was a lie. She needed Regina in that room. She needed to "confer" with her, but Regina was long gone from herself. Emma carved her nails into her palms, eight perfect crescents of anger and hopelessness.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

This was not the way he wanted to come back into the court room. Not this anyway. It shamed him, hurt his heart, because he was one of the good guys and yet here he was, fighting fire with fire. Using someone who had already been used to stoke trouble. Emma would not like this. She thought that good had to win the good way. Not with underhanded schemes. And his mom was not one of the good ones, she did not deserve to win anything and this was an underhanded scheme and he was very disappointed in himself, but Rumplestilskin was the worst of two evils. Did that count for anything?

He wanted to stay behind and let events unfold from now on. But Belle wouldn't let go of his hand, as if she could not walk on her own.

They stood against a wall closer to the stand, tucked behind a burly man in rolled up sleeves and a scent of fear.

"That sounds most tragic."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Rumplestilskin regarded the Prosecutor from his colder Gold eyes. "If that is the going synonym for _manipulation_ and _lies_ and _underhanded_ I'm sure you're right, deary. From where I sit, I call it murder."

The Prosecutor approached Rumplestilskin's chair then, all moral high ground but, funnily, he dared not touch him. No, sympathy, it seemed, did not get you past revulsion and fear. "Tell us what happened. Spare no detail."

Regina was in a bubble of her own and if it had looked remotely like a happy place, Emma would have allowed it. "Regina, snap out of it, dam it. These fuckers are pissing about with your life and you're letting them."

"Belle" Rumplestilskin said the name and it was like a prayer that even Emma wanted to pray. It was sibilated and whispered and it had a magic of its own.

"Regina!" And it was as if she could smell the grief and the fear on the woman's skin, rolling off of her like the mist does from the ocean when it brings with it the smell of the dead that roll in the waves and the fog that blinds.

"She loved me. And then _that woman_ churned her mind and set her against me and…" He took a few deep breaths and visibly got himself under control. It was a curious mix of little lies and little truths and knowing that simply did not help Emma separate the wheat from the chaff and ok, maybe she got a little bit anxious, and nervous and afraid, but she took Regina's shoulder and pulled her to her and merely stopped short of one of these satisfying slaps you see in the films that make time look like an elastic band stretching to the limit that then snapping and setting the catharsis in motion and everybody lives happily ever after. She stopped just _that_ little short of it. But she grabbed the woman, nonetheless, and she shook her and, probably, left marks too. "Listen to him. HELP. ME." She mouthed the too final words. And it was then she understood how inside out Regina really was. Even if she could not really understand, in the huge scope of things, where that was coming from, because so much worse had already been said. "Did you kill his Belle?"

And there were so many levels of wrong to that question and not for the first time she wondered if there was ever going to be a time where it was going to be easy to feel this… whatever it was for Regina without feeling a little bit of self loathing and disgust.

"She did not." A voice behind her replied softly at the same time Regina's mouth seemed to try to work for the first time since she had sat on that chair.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma turned honestly surprised because who on earth would defend Regina in this town. She saw a mousy woman with the strangest of clothes and a quiet demeanor. Regina shrunk into her clothes further but her eyes rose to the woman. "You came."

"He brought me." She pointed at Henry next to her.

There was silence that was thick and suffocating and the whole room breathed it. Heads turned and eyebrows rose in question, but there was not a single sound.

"Your Majesty! I must object!" The Prosecutor seethed, the color running high on his face and bald spot. Snow was confused too. One more face she did not recognize and that unsettled her.

"Sure! But to what?"

"There must such a thing as due process!"

"I'm sure there is, but we are well past it!" It felt like talking back to the Prosecutor. It felt good, too. "Besides, didn't you say that we all deserved to be heard?" Snow secretly preened at the small snickering laughs that she could make out in the crowd.

"Rumplestilskin" It was little more than a whisper, the same prayer that her name had been in Gold's mouth all but for the tinge of sadness in it. It carried through the room and pervaded muscles and bones and minds of those sitting there, making them understand they were sitting in on a very private moment between the disheveled woman and Rumplestilskin. "You know better."

"Your Majesty!" The Prosecutor objected with a whine, but it went unheeded, the crackling of energy between Rumplestilskin and Belle sucking all the attention in the room, a black hole sucking all the light.

"Ah, Belle." Emma had heard that tone before, and it was sadness and disappointment. She knew all the breadth and width of it and it meant something along the lines of _let me avenge you_. "My wee Belle."

Beside Emma, Regina was busy breaking down, breaking to pieces, breaking apart. Tears fell easy, copious. _Stay away from me Emma. Stay away. _She shirked from Emma's touch, feeling like the incarnation of poison ivy. She did not want to touch or be touched because all she did was poison and hurt.

"Look how she cries now, Belle. There it is, her guilt. See how she admits it."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Belle touched Regina's arm. There was no flinching. It seemed to Emma then, that all the flinching was reserved for her touch. "She locked me in that asylum. You locked me out of your life. Where are your tears, Rumplestilskin?" The voice was soft but it carried through the room. "Did she tell you I was dead?" The answer was just a nod. "Did she lie?" He raised his hand to her, as if he did not want to point the obvious. "I was dead to you. When I wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to kiss you _better_, you locked me a dungeon. Not much different from the one she chose. And then you sent me way. I was dead to you."

"Belle…"

"She told me true love can cure any curse. She was not wrong, was she?"

"She shouldn't have."

"Truth is, you didn't want to give it up, did you?"

"I needed it. I needed it to find my Bae. I need it still"

"Is she to blame for that too?" There was honest concern in the voice then, not that logic that needs to be conducted. A moment of doubt in the logic, it seemed.

"She knows of him. She knows where he is. She knows where he is and she will not tell me. Just as she did not tell me where you were, that you lived. She wants to live among ghosts so that I may become one too."

It was all too much. Rumplestilskin fraying at the seams, Regina crushed. This was not how people lost their minds. There had to be a semblance of civility to it. A process. An afternoon in court could not, should not, do this. There was some sort of hole in the narrative. And she wanted to shake, shake, shake Regina because this was not the woman she had come to know, this was a strange rag and she couldn't cope with it and she just needed to know if Regina knew where Bae, whoever he may be, was because she was just about overwhelmed. "Do you have him." No answer. "Regina, do you have him?" and before she knew it, she was really shaking Regina because she had lost that final grip on her temper.

"No" the voice was weak and shaken but for once Regina was looking at her and then Belle was there and she had her hand on Emma and Henry too, scared like a rabbit but there. "No. "

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

And for a moment there was silence.

Rumplestilskin regarded Regina, waiting, waiting for something. An admission of guilt, an answer to what he was looking for. He could hear her, he could hear her denial but he could not, would not believe her.

He tried not to fly off the handle. That was Rumplestilskin and he had 28 years of practice at being Gold. For a moment there was silence. And then he was Rumplestilskin again.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The scream came then, piercing and moving, that much louder for all the silence surrounding it, unexpected from the composed Mr. Gold or Rumplestilskin, she was not sure because she was at the end of her tether, but only until she saw the direction of his hands, clawing in the air towards Regina, grabbing at air as if it could pull him to her faster, faster, faster and the intent was clear. He had death in his green serpent-like eyes.

"She lies!"

Emma stood and the Prosecutor looked with undisguised glee and she moved to shield Regina, but only a fraction too late, even though they were sitting side by side. Rumplestilskin's hands connected with Regina's neck and she could see it as clearly as if it had been happening in slow motion, his fingers closing like claws around the column of Regina's neck, and she was still a fraction to slow, because he was still too fast or she was just moving in molasses and her legs just did not obey.

Rumplestilskin's free hand was palm up against her, holding her suspended in time that was moving a just a little slower than the rest of the room. The scream in her head was slower, the breathing just as slow and only her heart beat as fast, knowing what was going to happen, what was going to be ripped from her. And it did not matter what a monster Regina was or had been.

His hands closed and Regina closed her eyes and it was like surrender. Emma saw it, that fraction of a second she was just too late to stop Rumplestilskin, that she was too late because he was fast and was holding her with magic but also because Regina surrendered. In that fraction of a second too late, she understood Regina's breakage: she was upside down of herself, surrendered to the horror of what she was. Or had been. _Had been._ HAD. BEEN.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

10 going on 11 is not a long time to live, not enough to have the kind of memories that you think, _oh now I've seen everything._ Not by any stretch of the imagination. But to Henry it seemed that way. His mom was broken in a way that even he knew was real and Mr. Gold was bawling for a son no one even knew he had and then he was flying at his mom's throat and Henry thought only _NO_ because there was no time for any further thoughts. Just a _No_ that he could not qualify. Rumplestilskin's hands closed around his mother's neck and Emma was too late and his mom was going to die. He would see the evil queen vanquished and it was nothing like he had imagined and nothing that he could want or desire or even rejoice in.

And then Rumplestilskin was pushed back as if there had been an invisible shield around his mom, a shield that pushed Rumplestilskin backwards like the coyote in the cartoons he used to watch when he was seven and was sick with the mumps and his mom would have done anything to see him smile.

"No!" Gold screeched and though he tried again and again, he could no more close his fist around Regina's neck than Emma could reach her to save her. His magic held Emma back and someone else's magic held him. He couldn't reach her anymore that he could touch a cloud. "No! Give me back my Bae! Give him back to me."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

He couldn't. It was like running uphill, he had Emma in the grasp of his magic, and his fingers around the queen's neck but he could not close them, he could not seal the deal. He wanted her dead with every fiber of his blackened heart but that was not enough to have her so. And it had always been that way before. And then he felt it, that smell of magic. And he was pushed back and he was forever falling backwards and she was still, alive and Emma was almost free of him and inching towards the queen and the only thing he could do was keep the queen in that choke hold that would not let go. The one he knew would crush her from the inside: he raised her up in the air, arms tight at her side, chest constricted.

He expected to see her eyes go wild, he expected her to cough up Bae's whereabouts in two seconds flat. He knew a desperate soul when he saw one.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

She wanted to give up. She wanted to give her finger for the viper to bite, but there was just something that made her body fight for air. Something that made her promise to be good even if she had promised herself _never again_. Something that wanted to survive. Something that made her look at Emma and wish with all her heart to be saved.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

It was not nearly enough. Not enough to have her promising to be good, not enough to see the fear in her eyes. Not enough to see her back where he knew she came from, such a tidy little job Cora had done of this queen. No, not nearly enough. Even with Belle touching his shoulder, it was not nearly enough. It never was. "Where is he?" As the seconds ticked by, he gained in composure, in strength. As the seconds ticked by, his fingers steadied and he applied more and more pressure, more concentrated, more to the point where she could not breathe but was not yet dead. He needed her alive to tell him about Bae. He was so sure she knew that it gave him finesse to keep her on the brink, to keep pretty little Emma back, quite incapable of closing the distance, thinking that she needed just one more inch, just one stretch of the muscle, just a little more strength. He was back in control, at his most dangerous.

_There, that will do it_, he thought. _That will do it_. "Where is he?"

She sniveled once more _I'll be good_ instead of an answer. And Belle was there, her hand still on his shoulder, as she if she was some sort of monster whisperer, trying and trying to control him and his righteous anger and he snapped. He just snapped. He tightened the squeeze on the queen and if could not get what he needed from her, he would just squeeze until her eyes popped out of her head and at least he would have the satisfaction of squashing her like the cockroach that she was.

His hand squeezed violently as good as if it had been around her neck and Regina's head slumped to her chest.

Everything after that was just a blur: Emma breaking through the magic hold he had, that scent of new magic, of powerful magic pervading the air. Belle shaking him, as if she was trying to make a dog let go of a bone (and god help him, he really wanted to turn around and bite like a rabid one just to keep it), and always that sent of magic, just too strong, just too intoxicating and then the wave of magic, a breeze only, but enough, knocking him backwards and the queen falling from where he had held her into the Sheriff's arms. And knowing that this magic, this was something brand new, so very powerful.

He hated them. He hated them both even as that magic lulled him into a restful sleep.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

_NO! No, no, no!_ That could not be possible. Emma Swan had no magic. And the queen had the leash on her, she could not do magic. Who else could beat Rumplestilskin? Not this true love nonsense again! She could just scream!

The anger was so difficult to contain. The anger wanted to boil over and take control. This should not- could not- be happening. Absolutely not.

She had to leave. She had to walk out of that room because even if the queen looked dead in the Sheriff's arms, even if Rumplestilskin was knocked flat on his back, this was not what she had in mind.

No, this was not it at all.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"It is not the easiest thing I have done, to love a monster." Emma regarded Belle. The room had simmered down to a slow boil, voices were hushed and feet rustled. "It gets lonely." She said while she looped her arm around Gold's suddenly fragile one. Her hands smoothed the sleeve of his grey suit and Emma could see it then, her own hands smoothing down Regina's back, a very similar gesture. She was not looking for a kindred spirit. But it felt good to know that someone else understood.

And it did. It got lonely. As they were loaded into the bus, as Regina once again retreated into her silence, it did get lonely. There were no books about how to do this, how to see the best, the worst, the ugly and the beautiful in the same person and still want to be there. No cautionary tales. All the novels, all the stories, all the fairy tales were about deserving love and being worthy of love.

Had anyone ever told a fairy tale about those that do not? About those who love the ones that do not?

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Regina asked Emma to be alone that night. She felt the poison run in her veins, perspiring in her skin, exuding from her clothes like a scent, dropping from her eyes like tears. She was monster, she was no good and there was no atonement for her. Only how much more damage she could still cause. How much she could still hurt. Hurt Emma, Henry. Hurt anyone that might show her kindness, a little weak spot, because it was her genetic makeup. An apple never falls far from the tree. It took all she had to be this Regina, this one that Emma pulled into her arms and cuddled and soothed, the Regina expected the best of instead of the worst. It took every ounce of her energy to accept judgment. Because every cell in her body wanted to rebel and just say _screw you_ and be what she was born to be: evil, rotten to the core that she was. Rumplestilskin's words had only driven the point painfully home: she was deceiving herself, thinking that she might be anything but what she had always been, excuses and reasons or not. And it was only a matter of time until the toxicity that ran inside her leaked and poisoned everyone around her. Only a matter of time. Rumplestilskin was right. She was a monster. You can fool yourself for a while. You can fool others for a lot longer, but not everybody and not forever.

Her time was up.

"Please go, Miss Swan."

"But I…" The bars closed behind Regina, the Blue Fairy pacified by the separation. "I need you."

"Go home to your son, Miss Swan. This flight of fancy has lasted long enough. Go home, be a mother." And the conversation ended when Regina sought refuge in the darkest section of the stone dungeon. The gods had thrown the dice, she had been cast for the role and the only thing was living up to it. And retire gracefully. _Nothing now can ever come to any good. _


	13. Chapter 12

**Author's note:** Oh, God, it's been a while, hasn't it? In my defense, I blame another story for this delay...

Also, thank you to Marie for betaing this chapter, for pertinent comments and all around kindness.

Much love

Jane

* * *

Chapter 12

So this was what self-loathing looked like: a body melting into the shadows of a dark and damp prison cell, more a prisoner of herself than she had ever been of anyone else.

Emma did not do rejection well. She had that in common with Regina. For once though, she did not lose her shit and stayed. She was not sure why. She supposed it was whatever she was feeling, that thing that still made her teeth itch to name it out loud. Maybe it was that; but she did not take it to heart, that dismissal. She walked out of the cave and stood out of sight, sneaking glimpses of Regina, listening to the silence. There were no tears, no sobs, no crying, no screaming. Regina was as composed now as she had ever been as mayor and were Emma not feeling whatever it was she was feeling that made her teeth itch to name it out loud, she would have believed every single word Gold had uttered in that court room.

But she was feeling it, that whatever-the-name-was and, whatever the name was, it ensured that she saw not just what was apparent but what was hidden. It allowed her to hear not just what was said and the tears that were cried but to listen to the words that were not said and the tears that did not fall. It was fucked up and if she had had any choice she would have preferred not to feel any of it because she did not know how to deal with those things. That thing that made her teeth itch to name out it loud was the stuff of fairy tales and her life was anything but.

She was not hardwired to understand and live within that mind frame.

She chewed on the word and then chewed a bit more. It was unpalatable and difficult to swallow and yet, there was nothing else that came to mind, no other explanations, no other excuses.

Regina stayed in her corner and wrote something in that notebook that James had brought with her things; when she was done, she rubbed at her neck as if it was sore and then climbed into the cot, the food untouched.

Would it make it easier if Regina cried and sobbed apologies, if she told sob-stories of how bad it had been for her and how she had come to be what she was?

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"I owe you, Leroy."

"You don't owe me anything, sister." He tossed a sleeping bag at Emma's feet and pulled out his thermos of coffee. "You want some? Then go home."

It was like leaving a part of her behind and she hesitated once again about leaving. But Regina was right at least about one thing: Henry. He needed a mother and she had managed to be even less of one these days than all her other days in Storybrooke. But having behaved so appallingly, she now did not know how to approach him and pick up the slack.

She walked into town. She needed the walk. She needed to clear her head and make sense of the clusterfuck that was her life; how much she was managing to let every single person down: her son, her mother and father, Regina. Her friends. She was trying so hard to be there for one that she was messing it up with everybody else. Life was far simpler when she had no one in it.

And yet, having tasted real affection once, she did not want to let it go.

What a mess.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

There was not much to Storybrooke to be walked in case of need. Henry tried walking off the heavy feeling at the pit of his stomach but there was nowhere far enough. He ended up with a guilty ice cream in his hand (he had pocket money enough and no one asking him what he'd done with it- enough to buy the whole ice cream truck if Storybrooke had had one) and walking into Dr Hopper's office.

He knocked and even though he did not quite expect to be welcome, Dr Hopper opened the door with a welcoming smile. "Hi, Henry."

The ice cream had lost its appeal the moment he got his hands on it and so he just took it to the waste basket before sitting on the couch of his old humiliation. It was difficult not to resent his mom for it, for the years of therapy that gave other kids fodder for bullying. But at least he now had a sort of friend in Dr Hopper. Or not, it was difficult to know who was still too scared of his mom to tell her – or him- _No_. He second guessed himself, but Dr Hopper just put a hand on his shoulder and sat next to him on the same couch. He did not ask Henry what was bothering him, he just sat there- two lonelinesses keeping each other company.

"Why did she say that?"

How do you go about explaining to a child who has always had everything, who has always been loved that his mother probably was not as lucky? Archie pulled his glasses to his handkerchief and spent a few good seconds trying to formulate an answer. Particularly because he had not seen it. And he should have. He should have seen something because he was a conscience. That was his job, to see the workings behind the actions. He had failed her. And no matter what she had done before, he'd failed her every day for twenty eight years.

"What do you think, Henry?" Good grief, he hated himself for being such a gutless cliché.

"She was scared, I think." Henry thought back to his mom held half a body above the floor, turning white, white, white until what was there was not her, but someone else that he did not recognize. "But scared in a way… like she's been afraid all her life and… I don't know… like someone did really bad things to her and it was happening again."

"Why do you think_"  
"Dr Hopper?" The reasonable tone of the doctor was one of Henry's pet peeves.

"Yes, Henry?"

"Can we talk like you are not a shrink? Like, friends, I guess. No notes, no asking me about my feelings or what I think. Just talking."

Could he? It was much easier to just concentrate on others rather than himself. He hated looking at himself. He had spent a lifetime running from what he was, from his guilt. He put his hands to his face and rubbed it vigorously, trying to garner some courage.

"I'll try. Like friends."  
"Do you think someone hurt my mum?"  
Friends have a responsibility to the truth, don't they? Is that not what he tried to teach Pinnochio? The truth above the consequences? "I think so, Henry. I think someone hurt her a great deal."

"When she was little?"

"Why do you believe that? I mean, why do you think it was when she was little?"

"I don't know. Not really. My book never said anything about that. But she just sounded so… little."  
"Henry, some parents are… well, they do not treasure their children." Oh, god, he wished he was not so very hopeless. He was better as a cricket than he ever was as a man.

"Why do you think it was her parents?"

"Fair question. I'm not sure. Maybe because when I was a child, my own parents were not the best they could be. They were mean and selfish and that leaves a mark that is… well, recognizable."

"Like a scar?"

"Like a scar, yes." The silence stretched. Archie was unsure of what to do next. This fell off the script of his life and "expertise" and once again he found himself floundering. "Henry?"

"She never hurt me." Archie turned on the couch, his whole body listening because Henry's words were just so small. "She did those things and I hate her for it but she never hurt me." And there was something else. Something Henry was not quite sure about. "Archie?"

Dr. Hopper waited him out. One thing he knew from experience: some things you need to work out on your own, chewing and mulling until you can swallow them. "Do you think she regrets it? I mean… do you think that if she regretted it, it would be ok to… I dunno… like her again?"

"Henry, if we are speaking as friends, then I think I can safely say she does. And I that _liking_ someone does not depend on how good they are. We all have sins, Henry." Archie sighed all the words he'd ever wanted to say, all the amends he'd ever wanted to make coming out that night. "When we live long enough, we all have sins. Some of us just hide them better."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Sydney prepared for bed. He had a trial to attend in the morning. A deposition to make. He pressed his suit, took a brand new tie out of a plastic bag, and inspected the starched tie with care.

That night he slept like he had never slept in all his forgotten years. Tomorrow was the day of reckoning, the day he recovered his manhood.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma had half a mind to stop by Granny's and get through a good few fingers of Jim Beam before she faced Snow and James. Before she faced Henry. She was not in the habit of facing her failures, always in the habit of running before they caught up with her.

_Go be a mother_ pinged around in her head though, and maybe she should just go and be a grown up about her choices.

Yes, she had all those feelings for Regina that made her teeth itch to name them out loud and yes, she did not want to have to explain herself to her _parents_ and her _son_ but she did have them and there was a responsibility that came with those feelings. She stopped at the crossroads for a second, cementing her decision, and then turned towards Mary Margaret's flat. Snow's. Hell. Home.

Ahead of her, going in the same direction, Henry walked with Archie's arm over his shoulders and for a moment it gave her pause, how young her son really was and how much she was expecting from him in all of this. If she could not even name it without her teeth itching, what possessed her to think that Henry of all people, could hold all of her expectations on his shoulders?

The bottle of Jim Beam was growing more and more appealing, but she quickened her pace because this was either sink or swim and called out "Hey Kid, wait up."

She was not sure why she should have expected the kid to turn around and just run into her arms. But she did and it disappointed her when he did not and it hurt a hell of a whole lot. But at least he waited.

"Archie was walking me home."

"Thanks, Dr. Hopper."

"My pleasure Miss Swan. Good night, Henry."

"G'night, Archie. Thanks… for everything." Archie inclined his head in acknowledgement. He had some thinking to do, things he had successfully avoided for many years. Things the curse had mercifully obliterated from his memory.

Henry and Emma turned to walk home. Both struggled for words. It seemed, Emma thought, seeing the kid trying to work through something in his head, they were more alike than she had even realized.

"Emma?"

Her hand came around his shoulders, because she needed the contact. And that was very strange, because she was not used to needing affection like this.

"Is mom OK?"

"Not really, Henry."

Henry should have known because he had experience: just because you talk about things, it does not mean they will get better.

"Henry, I wanted to say something… Apologize. I want to apologize." Henry stopped then. He made no move to free himself from her arm around his shoulder and having seen him doing it to Regina more times than she could count, she was thankful he didn't do it to her right there and then. She was not sure she was at a place where she could just get over it. "These last few days… I've… hell, I've abandoned you again, didn't I? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Henry did that thing he always did with her: he turned to her and buried himself in her embrace, no questions asked. And every time he did it, she found herself lacking, because, really, what had she done – ever – to deserve such uncomplicated affection? She hugged him back.

"Is mom OK?"

"No, Henry, she's not."

"How do you do it?"

"What?"

"That. How do you… love her, knowing what she did?" Her teeth itched again, but she found she could not deny it anyway. Henry looked at her straight in the eye, that unflinching look, waiting for an answer. Waiting to be shown how to do the same.

Emma took his face in her hands, his arms still around her. "I don't know. I just do. She's not so much worse than everybody else. Everyone is hiding something. She's just handy for most people to hang their sins around her neck."

"Archie said sort of the same thing."

"Yeah… seems to be the theme song. She loves you."

"I know." He stopped walking them, the street dark around them except for the small pools of light of the public illumination. "I just…"

"Feel guilty for loving her back?" His breath itched and restarted his walk.

"I guess. Don't you?"

"Yeah. Sometimes. But I figure that the ones that need our love the most are not always the ones that deserve it best. It's easier to be good when life is peachy."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Your Majesty, the reserves are scarce. We are wasting them every time we open that cell. There is no fairy dust in this world. There are no diamond mines, no working dwarfs. When what little fairy dust we have runs out, we will not only not be able to open that cell, but we will have nothing left to tend to whatever emergencies we might have."

Snow stewed. There are things like that, aren't there? Things that are exactly what you want but conflict with what you expect of yourself. She turned to James because he was her rock anyway. He knew her as well as she knew herself. He anticipated her in many ways.

Honestly, she would not lament Regina never coming out of that dank hole in the ground, but she was a queen and she was a fair queen. She did not want to replicate the ways of the Enchanted Forest here. Not when she knew better now.

"She is entitled to her trial, Blue. She has the right to be heard, to hear what is being said. How long will these reserves last?" James held Snow's hand as she spoke. He knew his wife. He knew her chapter and verse. By heart. She had a good heart, but there was so much resentment in it that it was hard to do the right thing. Sometimes she just needed a little help being good. "How many more times will the dust open the bars?"

"Three, maybe four times if we are very careful."

"That's not good news, Blue. The prosecution is not over yet and Emma still has the right to defend her."  
"The defendant has a right, I think you mean, Your Majesty?" The Blue Fairy took exception to the words. "Because you are not just indulging a princess. You are doing it because it is the right thing to do, correct, Your Majesty?"

Sometimes he doubted. He knew Snow did, too. They owed Emma so many kisses, so many little indulgences, that, at times, it felt like they were trying to condense it all in this one thing so that she would still- or would again- love them. As if they were trying to buy her affections. "Yes, the defendant. Quite right." Snow slumped into her chair just as the key turned in the lock and Henry, followed by Emma, made it inside.

It was all Snow could do not run to her child and hug her. She had moments like this, where emotion overwhelmed her. And after the day they'd had, with Geppetto, especially on the stand, she needed that embrace more than anything. Emma must have known because she went to her mother and, not quite slumping on the floor close to her, pulled her mother into a fierce hug. "I missed you."

It would have been easy to think she meant only the days since she had last slept in that pretty little apartment they had shared, but they both knew that it meant all the years since Emma's birth. "You too," Emma turned to James. "I missed you too." Which caused him to tear up a little. He pushed discretely at the tears because men don't cry even if they're holding their guts in the palm of their hands, and hugged his baby. He could do this forever and would require nothing more from life.

It was not as difficult as she would have imagined, this affection thing. She was lucky. Her family loved her in this uncomplicated way, no demands, no tantrums. So easy. Come on, come in, get a hug, some warmth, some comfort. No big deal. Just the usual.. She liked this. She was thankful for this.

"We have a problem, Emma."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma did not sleep that night. It was almost as though they'd reverted back to those days they had been promised the bars would not open again. She walked through the apartment, a lonely specter and ended up in the kitchen, Henry equally unable to sleep.

"Hey kid."

"What are we going to do, Emma?" She heard the _we _and soaked it up. It might not give her any answers but it made her feel less alone.

"Dunno…"

"If the Prosecutor finds out, he will delay it enough that he will use up all the days…"

God, the kid had a sense for politics that surprised her. Then again, he was as much Regina's son as hers. It was not surprising at all, in fact. "Better make sure he doesn't then. And speed things along. We have three days. 'Cause the fourth she has to come out."  
"Do you think they're going to let her out?"

Oh were it that she could say with all certainty that yes, Regina was walking out of this, out of that cell. She crossed her fingers and gave him her best optimistic smile. "Let's just keep that fourth, OK?"

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

_The most important things are the hardest to say. Words diminish them. The words that seem so powerful in my head, on paper or out in the open, they lose their brilliancy, their shine. They become just words. Where is the power of words? Is love the greatest magic of them all? I cannot blame the bars around me or the collar at my neck. Maybe it is not for me to live it._

_Maybe this magic was not ever meant for me._

_The gods are cruel. Sometimes they makes you live._

_I was a princess once, Emma. Now it's too late for knights on white horses._

.

.

"Whatcha you writing in there?" Leroy kicked some imaginary pebble on the floor.

"My escape plan."

"It wouldn't kill you for once to say something real, you know?"  
"Oh? Have the dwarves been appointed the new guardians of the truth?"

"I'm a guardian of nothing, sister. But I am here and I'm guarding your sorry ass from the fools that would cross my princess and have you on a spit roast… so, you know, make it worth my while."

"You wish for entertainment, dwarf?"

"Is that all I am to you? A dwarf?" Oh, she was tired. She was tired and it took so much energy to keep the persona up. There was once a time the Evil Queen was her. Now it seemed, it was only a poorly fitting disguise. "Cause, you know, I'm not really sure."  
"What would you have me entertain you with?"

"This thing with the Sheriff… Is she like… your true love?"

"I… why would you assume that? Maybe I'm just using her."

"Maybe. She's not that dumb, but you never know. I saw the way you look at her."

"And how would that be? I can only assume I look at her like the person that stands between me and the spit roasting."

Leroy considered the woman. Sitting there in that miserable cot, in the dark of her prison, she was not at all like the Evil Queen of those years when they had declared war on evil. She seemed beaten down, downtrodden, finished. Hard as he tried, it was hard not to feel the tug of sympathy. Even if she was trying her best to be at least a little of the menacing she'd once been.

"Is it true?"  
"I'm sure it is."  
"Don't you even want to know what I'm talking about?"  
"I'm just saving you time."  
"Damn you're a tough one. Is it true that you had another true love once?"

Regina tried hard not to slump into the wall. That barely holding it together was gone with Leroy's question. She could lie about many things. She had. She could deny many others. Which she also had. Manipulate and cover up, obscure and colour the truth. But Daniel was the one thing she could not deny, lie about, cover up. He was the best part of her. The only good part of her until Henry.

"Yes."  
"What happened?"

"He left."  
"You're lying." Regina gave away something between a sob and sigh.

"He was taken from me." There was silence for a second while Leroy considered.

"Do you think it was the truth?"

"Why are you so concerned with the truth now, dwarf?"  
"Have nothing better to do, I suppose. Well, do you?"  
"What?"  
"The Dark One. Do you think he loved that girl?"

"Let me assure you, Dwarf, that monsters we may be but we are still quite capable of love."

"Is that why you…"

"Became evil?"

"Yeah…"  
"Theories abound. But most sustain that I was born this way."

"I loved someone once." Despite herself, Regina moved on the cot, closer to the bars.

"And?"

"Let me ask you: Do you think that there are people that are meant to never have love? Like, to see others love and feel it but never, ever be… allowed to?"

"Isn't love weakness?"

"The hell do I know? The moment I tried, I was put right back in place. No… I don't… I think love gives you wings… like a caterpillar. You go from ugly and unsightly to a butterfly. A caterpillar may be sturdier than a butterfly, but a butterfly sees more, does more, lives more…"

"Did you love, Leroy?" Leroy shrugged.  
"I'm a dwarf. Dwarves don't love. Dwarves work." It was Leroy's turn to swallow the knot in his throat.

"That's a lie."

"l messed it up."

"On your own?"

"Yeah, no, I had help there. Your jailer, she has a tongue on her. Smooth and sharp like a knife." Regina inhaled and drew her own conclusions. Some things you don't need -spelt out for you.

"Was it true?"

"What, is it your turn now?" He paused because she pulled back, her earnest listening back into a shell of fear. "Is what true?"

Sometimes all it took was courage. "Were you once called Dreamy?"

"It was a stupid name."

"Dwarf names are always accurate."

"That one was for a time. Until it wasn't."

"What happened?"

"My butterfly wings feel off. Turns out I was meant to be a caterpillar all along."

"Did it change you?"

"Nuh, I'm still my sunny little self." And he leaned back against the bars. "Wouldn't you just kill for a drink?"

"Poor choice of words…"

"There's only me here, sister. I'm in no hurry to jump into conclusions. But for my money…"

"Yes?"

"If you got a good thing going, don't let nobody curdle it for ya."

"Leroy?"

"Yeah…"

"Thank you."

"Just go to sleep now, queen. I'm all talked out."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

It took Regina a moment to understand where she was. A fundamental part was missing and that took far less time to identity. She was missing Emma like she would miss a leg or an arm. She didn't quite know how to do this without Emma there. Her mere presence made it bearable, worthwhile. She was not afraid when Emma was there because Emma was her prize. A prize for surviving this long, a reward. And because she gave Regina hope. Emma was her hope.

So she sat for a little while trying to understand her decision, trying to stick by it. No, it would not be easy. She had lost the ability to do what was best for somebody other than herself. She knew then that she would have to struggle with her decision every second that Emma stood next to her. She could not let Emma fall any deeper. This was a slam dunk case and it would not do to let Emma close to her only to hurt her later when her fate had been signed, sealed and delivered. And most particularly, she could not allow herself to hurt Emma. Every minute Emma spent close to her was a minute she spent looking at the abyss. And one of these days the abyss would look right back and there was no telling what then.

She put on her turtleneck because her fate was sealed but she'd be damned is she was going to give the Blue Fairy – or anyone else by that matter - the satisfaction of so much as the blisters around her neck from the collar she wore every day. Then she sat to wait.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Henry walked with Emma into the cave, nervous like he was on his first day of school. He grabbed Emma's hand and it was almost as good as holding his mom's hand that day.

"Deep breath, kid."

He hadn't really seen his mom like that before, behind the bars. When he'd been at the cave before, everything was fresh and angry and he had barely spared her a look, so bitter he had been at Emma's betrayal, so happy that he had been vindicated.

He looked at the woman sitting there on that cot, in black clothes that were hanging off of her as if they were not her own and it broke his heart. And still, he would not run to her, because he was still working out how to do that and not lose sight of what she was. And what he was.

She did not hear him until he called her from inches away. She lifted her head then as if she was not quite sure it had been real. God, he missed her and he hadn't even known until then. "Hi Mom."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Henry!" Emma stood a little ways back because she wanted to give them both this moment. She saw Regina stumbling into the bars, falling into Henry, starved of him, tears already gathering in her eyes. But as she made to touch, as she made to cup his face and kiss him, she pulled back. She pulled back abruptly. Emma recognized the same flinching from the courtroom. She recognized the same withdrawal, the same _self-imposed_ distance.

Henry grabbed her hand just as Regina was pulling away. It was a strange turn of events, but it made her proud of her son- even if all that the kid was, he was thanks to Regina, and there was not much of her in there to feel proud about. Henry pulled the hand he had grabbed on to and pulled Regina to him. It seemed her decision was not as strong as Henry's small hand.

"I missed you, mom."

Regina surrendered then, she leaned into the bars and reached out for her son. "I'm sorry, Henry. I'm so sorry." She took Henry's hand and brought it to her heart, beating wildly in her chest, because, Emma knew, all other words were failing her.

Emma wiped discretely at a tear. The wedge between Regina and Henry was not her doing, but she had added to it substantially with omissions and words, actions and absence of actions.

The Blue Fairy walked in at that point. She was early. She was damned early. And there was something about her that was a lie but, again, Emma honed in on the general feeling but it was as if she was capturing the signal through a defective antenna because she could just not understand what the lie was.

The woman smiled that sweet smile of hers that made Emma want to hurl, and greeted Henry with a hand on his should that the kid instinctively shrunk from. Good boy. Maybe he had gotten the lie detector from her. She'd have to talk it over with him.

The Fairy opened the door to the cell.

"Don't let her close to your queen, sister, she'll make it go sour." Leroy quipped, rolling his sleeping bag.

Emma's head snapped to him. "Sour?"  
"Yeah. She has a way with words. Don't let her word you out of here. Or word your queen out of you."

"What do you know, Leroy?"

"Nothing sister. Just a feeling, that's all. Us drunks have instincts, s'all."

"We need to talk, Leroy. Don't go AWOL on me, 'cause we need to talk." Leroy snapped a salute.

"Yes, boss." And then he was gone.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Sydney pressed his lapels against his chest and tried to calm down his wildly beating hear. The breathlessness, the thumping in his chest… was this how a dog felt when it bit the hand that fed it?

Either way, regrets wouldn't do. He'd had enough time for regrets in that mirror. Regrets and love, well, they were a powerful potion, were they not? He was about to serve it with a side of betrayal. Hers and his. They were not so different as she might think.

When he sat in front of that room of people, his mouth went dry and he briefly considered making a swift escape. He lacked, more often than not, the courage and the follow through. But the Prosecutor already had him in that chair and he stood between Sydney and the door, leaving him no space to flee. He cleared his throat and twisted his hands in his pockets. The prosecutor had forbidden him to drink. "Clean nose, Sydney" he had lectured him like a 5 year old. _The pompous ass._

"So, let me get this straight." George enunciated because he was not quite sure Sydney's blabber had been understood. "His Majesty, King Leopold gave you your freedom and took you to his court." Sydney nodded. "Where this… villainess" he pointed dramatically at Regina, "ensnared you with tears and false promises." Sydney nodded eagerly, avoiding looking at Regina. "And, against your own moral code, against your debt of gratitude towards the kindness of the king who freed you from your bond, you simply fell in love." Sydney had a brief flash of those dogs with articulated necks on the dashboard of old ladies' and young girls' cars, nodding and nodding as the car moves through the potholes. "And, cannily using those feelings against you, the Queen manipulated you into bringing into the palace that with which she killed the King."

No, Sydney simply could not look at her. Truth was not black and white. And he was coloring it. But she deserved it. He knew in his thousand year old bones that she deserved it.

"Tell the court, Sydney, in your own words, what did she use to kill the king?"

"The viper of Agrabbah." Sydney's voice lowered considerably, to a deep staccato tone that spread through the room like stories told at the fireplace. "A magic viper from my land. A viper so poisonous it kills with one single bite."

"What was the intention behind the choice, Sydney?"

"Obviously, to blame me for the King's death."

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Snow felt herself go cold at the memories. The genie had been blamed. The genie had fled the kingdom, cementing his guilt, who else was there to receive the blame? It was not until the edict for her head had been proclaimed by the Hunter that Snow made the connection. She could still feel the chill of her father's skin on her fingers when she touched him in that coffin.

There were things she could eventually learn to forgive. For Emma's sake if nothing else. And there were things for which she would never forgive Regina. Or herself. She leaned back on the chair because she felt she could no longer breathe, that there was no more place for poise and grace under duress. She remembered Regina's first years at the palace, the gaunt face, the dark circles under her eyes. The way she flinched when her father sat for dinner at the same table. And she would not forgive herself how she had made believe that everything was ok just because she had a mother. Things had happened to the mother she had chosen, like you chose a doll, things she had grown over, grown around and never grown enough to question her father's role in.

Maybe Regina had killed her father. And what made it so difficult to breathe was that if she been more attentive, less spoiled, more of a daughter to Regina, maybe, just maybe, her father would have been spared.

At the time, she just didn't want to feel any less about him. Father was her everything and she did all she could to keep him that way.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Regina was terrified of Sydney's presence in "court". There were, after all, things worse than death. And one of them was Sydney revealing things she had confided in him back then, things about her life with Leopold. She wanted him out of that seat. Desperately.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Is that what happened?"

"Yes."

"But you did escape."

"No. She trapped me in a mirror."

Emma went through an inventive string of expletives in her mind. That was a lie and it did not take her super power to see through it. Sydney, unable to lower his voice any further without muting it completely seemed to have developed a stutter and a cough all in one second. _Choke on it, you bastard._ And then Regina's hand slid into hers, their fingers entwined and there was warmth in the gesture. Emma's throat constricted painfully.

"It's not true." She spoke softly, barely a sound, but her head was high and she was facing Sydney and staring him down. "He wished his one wish."


	14. Chapter 13

**Author's note:** Thank you to Marieyotz for her beta services.

Also, I'm so very sorry for the long wait for this chapter.

Much love

Jane

* * *

_Previously _

_Regina was terrified of Sidney's presence in "court". There were, after all, things worse than death. And one of them was Sidney revealing things she had confided in him back then, things about her life with Leopold. She wanted him out of that seat. Desperately._

_**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**_

"_Is that what happened?"_

"_Yes."_

"_But you did escape."_

"_No. She trapped me in a mirror."_

_Emma went through an inventive string of expletives in her mind. That was a lie and it did not take her super power to see through it. Sidney, unable to lower his voice any further without muting it completely seemed to have developed a stutter and a cough all in one second. Choke on it, you bastard. And then Regina's hand slid into hers, their fingers entwined and there was warmth in the gesture. Emma's throat constricted painfully. _

"_It's not true." She spoke softly, barely a sound, but her head was high and she was facing Sidney and staring him down. "He wished his one wish."_

"Objection!" Emma shouted from her place.

Every single pair of eyes in the room turned to her. Those of the Prosecutor focused more intently. "Oh? On what grounds?"

Snow bristled. Yes, she would have to ask that question also, but George was messing with her daughter and she wanted to gouge his eyes out. Again. For Emma and for herself.

"On the grounds that it is a lie."

"Your Honor, I believe that this objection should be formulated in a more legal manner to even be considered."

This time Snow did not even have time to glare at him. Emma leaned back on her seat, balancing the old chair on its back legs, all defiance and challenge. "Screw that. If we're going to play courtroom, let the other kids play nicely, George."

"Your Majesty!" He dared scold her mother and that earned him a death glare from Snow that meant nothing good for him.

"Don't bother anyway. Go ahead." Emma conceded, her heart thrumming in her chest, violently and not because of the confrontation but because Regina had her hand in hers again, warm, soothing.

**SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

When the din in the room died down, Sidney's back sagged and he looked at the Prosecutor for guidance. "Is it a lie, Mr Glass?" Sidney was unable to answer. His gaze fell to his hands nervously twisting in his lap. George swiftly moved in front of him, shielding the shying Mr Glass from the crowd. As if that could actually stop them from drawing their own conclusions.

"Mr Glass?"

"It is not. I was tricked. She could not have me free. She could not. Not with the things I know. Knew. She didn't want those known."

"Oh?" George had heard all of this before but he was a good actor and he could fake interest and respect as well as needed. They had sat, Sidney and him, hours and hours exploring this very avenue. It was a good one, George felt. It was one that exposed, with minor tweaking, the Queen for what she was, a dog that bit the hand that fed it. It had taken nearly his entire supply of good hard liquor, who would have guessed that Mr Glass could have drank so much, but he had gotten it all out of him. "Did she have reason to want the old King dead?" It was Sidney's cue. Like a well rehearsed dance, the mirror should ask him then a guileless _What, besides ascending to the throne while his one child was not of age?_ but it seemed that the _clean nose_ lecture had not been sufficient. So he stepped in, stepped up his game. And voiced his question for the spectators in the room. "And I mean besides the fact that she'd ascend to the throne ahead of his underage child, which she then pursued to almost death, eventually leading us all here. Cursed." Pause for effect. "Isn't that right, Your Majesty?"

Sidney was confused for a minute. He knew he was supposed to have asked that question himself. It was his line. He mentally ran through the play, trying to get a bid on the text of it. For the life of him, he could not remember what came next. He stuttered and then uttered a feeble _Yes_ that came through a gruff throat and nearly not enough voice. He dug his manicured nails into in his palms. _Get a grip, Genie, get a grip._ "Yes, she had cause for it. Or so she said."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

In Emma's hand, Regina's tightened painfully. Next to Emma's, Regina's whole body tensed. Emma studied her for a second. Regina was bracing herself for something. Something nasty. For a minute, Emma considered that she should probably be bracing herself too. God only knew what Sidney had to say that Regina was so scared of. More dark secrets, more skeletons in the closet. More hearts ripped off of chests, more bodies crawling out from under lost boulders.

But she tightened Regina's hand in hers. Whatever it was, it was the past and she could deal. It was in the past. That was the key. She could rationalize and get past it. She had known all along that she'd hear some twisted shit during this poor excuse for a trial. She knew because she had been on the receiving end of Regina's attentions for the better part of a year and she knew how dogged the woman was.

But that was the point, right? You take the good with the bad and you hope for the bad not to make an appearance again, for the bad not to show up and make itself present again. What's in the past you can deal with. You can. She had her own past. She had it and there was no use denying it.

What could be so bad?

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"She hated him."

"I think the court will want you to clarify, Mr Glass." George prodded, eyes still on the crowd, measuring, calculating. "I think we all want to know what caused a great and merciful king to be slain in his own bedchamber, torn from the arms of his loving daughter, of his adoring subjects."

"She was forced to marry him."

"Oh?"

"Arranged marriage. You see, it was… well… it was…"

George wanted to rip his head off, the blubbering fool. The case was set up for him and the spineless simpering little toad was just dragging this on and on. _Straight to the point_ he had told him. _Straight to the point, Mr Glass_, but Sidney had lost his orientation towards the point. Taking a long deep breath, George once again took control of the dialogue, guiding Sidney firmly back to the rehearsed path.

"I wonder if you mean that her mother managed to concoct a marriage well above their station."

"Yes… Sure, yes." Sidney was sweating up a storm in his pressed suit and new silk tie.

"I wonder if you mean that her mother managed to do the best for her ungrateful child and marry her off into not only royalty but to reigning monarchy at that, giving that ungrateful child her best chance."  
"Indeed…" Sidney felt himself regain control inch by miserable inch and the subject went back to the well trodden path he had been over with the Prosecutor. It helped that the Prosecutor shielded him from his Queen's eyes.

"From millers to Queen in two generations."

George did a little grunt of approval, hands behind his back, balancing on the balls of his feet. They were back on the right path, both George and Sidney felt. "Only I could have granted better wishes myself."

"And she was unhappy with this union because…"

"Because well… he was old. She was young…"

"What of that? She married above her station, was he not kind to her? Did he not perform his husbandly duties? Did he not offer all he had promised with his wedding vows?"

"I'm sure he did. She was even with child at some point."

"So why would she turn on him? What reason could she possibly have to have the Good King Leopold murdered in his slumber?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The air in Regina's lungs became a heavy syrupy thing, her crippled old heart beat erratically. It was all coming back. All she had so carefully forgotten about, all she had so painstakingly eliminated from her waking memories was being put into words, brought back to torment and humiliate her once again. Having lived it once was not, it seemed, sufficient. Her past was the gift that kept on giving. She withdrew her hand from Emma's safe hold and folded it into her lap. Henry was in the room. Henry was in the room and he would hear all of the sordid story. Henry and Emma would hear the whole sordid affair. And she would prefer to be the villain than to be pitied.

Forcing the air in and out of her lungs, she turned to Emma, all urgency in that one request. "Tell them I give up. Tell them they can do whatever." Her hand went to her erratic heart trying to calm down its beat. "Tell them… They were right about it all. Just make it stop now. Make it stop. Get Henry out of here. He must not be here for this. Make it stop."

"Stop." Regina stood and addressed Snow. "Just stop. Snow White… Your Majesty. Just stop."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma was frozen in her place, unable to process what on earth Sidney Glass could have on Regina that she'd rather forfeit than let it come to light. For some reason, she could not bring herself to believe it was an act so heinous, so horrifying that she'd prefer to have it cost her her life.

No. This was something Reina would pay- and with her life- to keep a secret. From Henry and from Emma herself.

"Your Honor!" Emma stood, uncertain. It was like waking up naked in high school without homework. She loved Regina. She loved her and she had no clue what terrified her so much, what she could say, how to sooth her. She had no clue how to do anything right. "I need a break. Intermission. How do they say it on TV? Recess? I need a minute."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow was paralyzed herself. She had not seen that particular brand of terror in Regina's face since she caught her with Daniel all those years ago. It was look of abject fear and there was a tingling in her spine that told that she should accept Regina's plea. She should stop and just let the dice fall where they may. It was that very same tingling in her spine that had been telling her all along that she was not going to like what was going to be said here. She was not going to be able to live with it.

She had a sense of preservation. She was so very tempted to just acquiesce and be done with this and go on with the rest of her happy ending.

"Granted. 30 minutes?"

"Your Majesty, really, this is highly inappropriate! A court does not go into recess at every hissy fit of the defendant. This is out of order."

Snow took her gavel and hit it with a satisfying thump on her desk. "Nothing about this whole thing in very much in order, and yet here we are. Sir." She dropped the last word with clear defiance in her voice. She was a glutton for punishment, it would appear.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma pulled Regina to her trying to silence the pleas for it to _stop_. Sidney looked at his hands and tried to make himself small, invisible when she managed to drag Regina into a small room next door, flanked by guards and under the scrutiny of the Storybrooke.

When she locked the door behind her, Regina simply collapsed onto the chair.

"Enough. Enough now, Emma." She rubbed at her chest as if it hurt and Emma simply dropped to her knees by Regina.

"I don't understand. Why now? I thought… This morning, with Henry… I thought that if not for me, than at least for him… you'd try. I thought you'd try."

"There is nothing to try, Emma. We both know that the outcome is a foregone conclusion."

"No, it isn't. How could you think that? Look where we are. Look around you. You just need a little faith."  
"I'm all out of faith, Emma."

"I'm not. And you owe me this. You owe me a chance to try."

"Because we slept together?" Oh this used to be easier, to hide her hurt under the pain she caused others. "Grow up, Miss Swan. Despite what you might have heard, there are no fairy tales to be had in this land. Everything will end exactly as it is supposed to end. You can only buyme time."

Emma felt like she was being hit with something like a bus or a mountain, perhaps. She slid onto her heels, sitting on them, trying to regain her balance. She looked at Regina just trying to get her bearings, a reference point, anything that would make her head stop spinning. And then she saw it, the lie in Regina. So, so clear, that lie. And it did not take a super power. It took only the grimace on that face Emma knew so well, a grimace of pain and desolation, of discomfort and despair.

"What do you want to keep from Henry? What does Sidney-Sack-of-Shit have on you that you do not want him to hear?"

"Miss Swan…"

"Damn it, Regina, I'm a big girl. I can send Henry home and fuck me if he won't clear the room, but I want to know what the hell it is that Sydney knows about you. What are you so terrified of that you'd rather die than have me know about it?" Her hand gripped Regina's arms and she could feel her own and Regina's pulse points through her fingers grasping tightly. She was towering over Regina, her stance overpowering and aggressive.

She took note of it, of that look on Regina's face that was a mix of the things she wanted to hide and something new, a fear she could not disguise.

There were so many ways you could bully someone. And Emma knew her posturing was just one of them. She was ashamed of it but she could not stop herself. Not until Henry placed his hand on her arm and called her name as softly as he came into that room.

That hand allowed her to take a step back, to see what she was a doing from an out of body perspective. It was like being back at that point when she pressed Regina into a wall and told her that she had no heart.

It was like that. With Regina disheveled and fragile taking her hand and placing it against her chest and saying _No, I don't_ confessed, whispered to her great shame.

The iron grasp became soft touch. The standing became kneeling. And yet, she was still a bully.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Regina. I'm so sorry." Still a bully.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina had no idea how to reply. She was scared yes. No matter how hell bent on giving up, she was afraid. At that moment, she had feared Emma. And then there was a blond head on her knees and sobbing and apologies. No had ever apologized to her. She didn't know how to reply to an apology. She supposed it took some practice to do it gracefully. She had no practice.

It was not okay. She could not say it was okay. But she could hug back. She could sooth the wild mass of curls in her lap. She liked being a person that could hug, the person that could sooth away a sorrow.

"What I did, I can't take back, Emma. I wish I hadn't because it hurts… here." She placed her hand over her heart and rubbed insistently there, trying to relieve the pressure. "But let them think what they will. They always have, anyway. Let me have this."

"Your secrets?"

"My pride, Emma."

"Mom?"

Henry took a crumpled tissue from his pocket and took Regina's face in his hands. He cleaned tears she didn't know she had.

"I don't have any friends at school."  
"Oh Henry!"

"Mom, listen. It's important, okay?" Regina nodded and Emma sat again on her heels. "Kids, they don't really like me, because I'm the son of the Mayor, you know? Like I'm there to spy on them or something. They don't like me because they say I'm crazy and that's why I go to Archie. And I'm a geek. Kids in school are not really nice when they don't like someone." Henry stuffed his hands in his pockets and fidgeted.

"Henry, why didn't you tell me?"  
"Were you bullied, Henry?" Emma leaned to him and had her hands running over him. She didn't know anything about parenting. She had nothing to draw from, she had never been parented, she had never had to parent Henry. Regina was the one that did all of that. She could only love in this way, this very physical, tactile way of touching and holding and protecting. She wanted to get up and go and hurt someone. But Henry had something else on his mind and it was slow coming but it was coming.

"Yes." He admitted through gritted teeth. "I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed. It's not because I didn't think you couldn't help me. You totally could. But I was ashamed."  
"Of what, Henry? You're perfect."

"Of being weak. You're so strong and I was ashamed of being weak."

"Henry, there is nothing to be ashamed of… I wish you'd told me. Even if there had been nothing I could have done, at least I could have been there for you." It gave her pause for a second because it had been so long that he had wanted her to be there for him. "If you wanted to."

"I did. I still do. But that goes both ways, mom."

"Henry, I'm not sure I understand."

"Okay, let me try smaller words: Pot. Kettle."

Emma wanted to hug Henry. Regina was not processing anything beyond the thought that her child was bullied in school but Emma was quicker on the uptake. Or maybe it was because Henry was so much like her in this too. She wanted to hug him fiercely, but this moment was Regina's and when it sank in, she was sure Henry's words would be that much more powerful than hers could ever be. She wanted to hug the kid and not let go.

Instead, she leaned into Regina's knees again and waited.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

His palms were sweaty and his heart was thumping wildly in his chest. He would never have guessed how much this would hurt, how much confessing to his own shame, to his own pain would hurt. But it hurt so much more seeing that look he recognized from the mirror when mom had asked Grandma to make it stop.

Regina Mills was his mother in every sense. She had fed him and clothed him. Sat with him through sickness, put up with tantrums, cleaned up his room complaining of his messy ways. But she had never been so much his family as today when he saw that terrified look in her eyes. When he chose to be hers again.

And he could not quite explain how he knew she was not afraid that her sins were being exposed- that ship had sailed- but that there was something she had carefully hidden and that she did not want others to see. A weakness, an indignity. The very same that reflected back at him when he prepared for school every morning.

Desperate souls recognize each other. It just hurt that he never seen it before.

He took his mother's hand in his. "Don't you think it's time for us to be brave together?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The lump in her throat was going nowhere fast. Henry knew what she was trying to hide. Not the nitty-gritty of it, but the general principal. He knew that. And though she felt it as a personal failure that she had not seen her child go through that, she wanted to cry that she had raised a boy compassionate enough to recognize it in someone else. Recognize it in her of all people.

"I can go home if you want. I can go. But I'd like to be here. I'd like for you to go outside so we can do this together."

All in all, it was small price to pay. It was the beginning of her penance, perhaps, to have all her hurts and slights paraded around. Maybe that would go some way to appease the anger and the hatred. All in all, it was no price at all to have _this_, her son in the same room wanting her to save herself, to have this woman holding on to her like something precious. Even if she had strange ways to let it show. Ways that she knew well. Had she not done the same to Henry?

Very small price indeed.

She steeled herself, cleaned her nose and rubbed her face into a semblance of the mayor of what? two weeks ago? and prepared to face the beginning of her punishment.

"Alright. Let's do this."

Simultaneously, two pairs of arms encircled her and squeezed and she was not comfortable with this type of physical affection but it felt good. And it wasn't even strange.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

So the fallen queen was regaining her retinue. No matter. The mirror's testimony should go well enough to appease the boiling anger in her. The fabric of her plan was starting to fray dangerously and it was not pretty. She liked that status quo. She liked the stench of hurt and misery. Worn like an expensive, exclusive perfume. It fed her appetite and her power.

No, the serenity in the queen's face was not good at all. The fiery determination in the Savior's eyes meant nothing she cared to heed and now the whelp joined the attendants. Her stomach churned something acid and painful.

It didn't really matter. Hers was the victory. Even if she had to wait a little longer. Put in a little more effort.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Sidney swallowed his nerves, raw and dry. It had not helped that he had stayed in that very exposed position with all the room looking at him. Judging him for lack of a better defendant in the room. The 10 minutes the queen and the sheriff were out of the room seemed to him like hours of torture. He pulled and picked at his tie until he undid the lining and the seams. He picked at the skin of his fingers until it felt raw like his throat. He wished he could disappear into a hole in the ground. Or drink. He was so thirsty. He wanted to drink until it felt like this was the proper thing to do again. Until he felt the fire of the rage and all the decades of this scorned love were justified again.

When she walked into the room, his heart sank again and had it not been for the Prosecutor standing between him and the closest door, he probably would have run.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

When Emma pulled Regina's face into a soundly defying wet kiss in front of the whole of Storybrooke gathered in that courtroom, Snow had a brief flash of that dream that kept on plaguing her sleep, of Regina's rounded belly and Emma's caring hand over it. Again she studied for the signs and found none. None that she could recognize.

From his place against the wall, Leroy threw a cat call "Have at it, sister!" It was so inappropriate that it had to be funny. Some people smiled, others openly giggled. Where did that leave the seriousness of the trial?

She hit the gavel onto the table and the silence was instant, though some faces remained with smiles on them. "The Prosecution may continue. Unless there is an objection from the Defense?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"No, Your Honor. There isn't."

"Well, then, Mr Glass." The Prosecutor cleared his throat. "I think we were interrupted when you were about to explain to this court room why the Queen could possibly want her husband dead. Was there a lover? Maybe more?"

"There were lovers. Alive and dead."

"Mr Glass, really, I believe will need an explanation." The Prosecutor's face was a smirk of victory.  
"She kept her stable boy in a glass coffin. Much like the one Her Majesty_" And he gave Snow a pointed look. "_was kept in by the dwarves. She wanted to restore him."

"Ah, I see. So she had young lovers to satisfy her carnal desires and a dead lover she wanted to revive to replace the king."

Sidney stuttered. "Yes… yes, that was it."

"So where do you come in on this, Mr Glass. You're a djinn. What could you possibly offer her that she had a need for?"

"My magic. Djinn magic is powerful magic. He who controls the djinn controls his magic."

"I see." George paused for effect, to let the information sink in and settle in the public. "Forgive me, but A Djinn such as yourself… you had lived thousands of years before you came to the White Kingdom. You don't strike me as a vulnerable person that has not seen the ways of women, their wiles and their manipulations…"

"Have you ever been in love?"

George actually put his hand on Sidney's shoulder and offered something that to the casual onlooker would seem like understanding and empathy. "I have, yes."  
"Then you will understand. She told me stories. I believed them. I wanted to believe them. I was in love and I wanted to be her savior. I saw myself as her knight in shining armor. It turns out I was wrong."

"What kind of stories?"  
"What does it matter? They were lies."

"Can you be sure?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

He was a dog. He was a dog that was biting the hand that had fed him. A traitorous dog.

"Yes." Though he knew different.

He sneaked a look at _her_. She sat there serene, nothing in her eyes to judge how deeply she hated him right there and then. How much she wanted his head on a pole or his skin for a drum. Nothing at all. If he had to guess, just sadness. And shame. He looked at the wall behind her not letting himself falter.

"I'm sure they were heartbreaking stories. To fool a man such as yourself."

"They were indeed. They made me believe that she needed me. That helping her was warranted."

"Do you remember those lies, Djinn?"

"How could I ever forget them…"

"Would you perhaps give the court an example or two. I think that should suffice to show the merciless, heartless liar that sits among us, the heartless, viciously cruel villainess that seeks our forgiveness and our mercy."

Sidney hesitated. It was a short but distinct opportunity to backpedal. To not sink even further. But the Prosecutor's hand squeezing his shoulder in what to others looked like a friendly gesture was enough to get him going.

"That he raped her. That he forced himself on her. That he never mourned the loss of the child she would have borne him had her mother not ensured the child did not see the light of day. Heartbreaking. How could I leave such a flower to him?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

There were things Snow did not want to hear. And they all started now. She shrunk into her seat with a gasp of horror. Her father was perfect. He'd been perfect then, he was perfect still. He was kind and good and honest and worthy. All she had ever wanted to find for herself.

She knew that her subjects, the ones that had lived under her father, the ones that had sang and danced as the legends went would not believe it. Her father's memory was untouchable to them. Those were lies that the Genie was exposing. Lies alone.

But when she looked at Regina, when she saw that jaw set in a grim, painful line, the eyes dead, she could not help but remember the Regina that had been brought to the palace, alive, young, with light in her eyes. Even if in what she knew now was mourning.

_That_ Regina had started to fade away, to vanish, the night of her nuptials.

The blindest is always the one that refuses to see.

She had been a girl then. But she was a woman know.

"Your witness" The Prosecutor announced, all arrogance and confidence.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma had not let go of Regina's hand during Sidney's testimony. She had felt each hitch, each shudder, each shiver, each tremble in her body, a telegraphy of her emotions, of her reactions. Of each of her sorrows.

And she knew Regina enough now to know. She had heard enough to know without questioning.

"I have one question to begin with: how do you know they were lies, Sidney?"

"You're not the only one with the superpower, Sheriff… Princess…"

"I think I prefer Sheriff, Sidney. Let's stick with that for now, okay? But you know what, I usually base my superpower on more than a gut feeling. I mean, there are tells, you know. For example, the person will… fidget. Like you're doing now, Sidney." Sidney studied his hands minutely. "And they'll refuse to meet my eyes. Also like you're doing now. It's not rocket science. It's sense. So tell me, Sidney. Which one of those tells made you suspect that she was lying?"

"All of them… I mean…"

"Don't worry Sidney, I get your meaning… But I'm confused: if you knew she was lying…. Why did you do it? Did you fall in love with her because she was lying her face off to you? Was it the capacity for lying that you admired?"

"No… I don't… I don't think I knew it back then… it took a while. I understood after a while. When she imprisoned me in that mirror… When she condemned me to look upon her face forever."

"Ah… I get it. After the fact, you mean. Sure. But see, you are fidgeting now. You are not looking me in the eye, so that has my lie detector all buzzing and wailing and screaming LIAR. Do you want to know why, Sidney?"

"Why?" Sidney looked at Emma, moth to a flame.

"Because you are a liar. "  
"Your Honor! This is intimidation! She is intimidating my witness."

"I think you mean the court's witness… Counselor."

The Prosecutor merely grunted is assent.

"Emma. I must ask to tread carefully. We must not forget who we are and what we're doing here."

"Sure. But he's still a liar."

The Prosecutor was turning an interesting shade of puce when he slapped his hand on his desk, demanding attention. "YOUR HONOR!"

"Okay, okay. I withdraw the question. Is that what they do on TV?" She turned to the crowd for confirmation. "Right, where was I? Ah, yes. I was about to debunk your 'testimony'. And I know exactly where I want to start: with the mirror entrapment."

"I'm sorry?"  
"Not just yet, Sid, wait for it. Now, let me get this straight because I wasn't there so you need to run this by me again… King Leopold gave you a wish…"  
"Your grandfather, Your Highness…"

"I told you I prefer Sheriff, but sure, I'll bite. So my Grandfather gave you a wish."

"He was a truly great man. He gave his first wish to his people. He wished his people to be happy."

"That was nice of him."

"Indeed. Then he wished for my freedom."

"Wow. Did he know you from someplace?"

"No, Your Highness. We had just met."

"Huh. Good guy all around…"

"Very much so. He certainly did not deserve what became of him… Your Highness. And then he wished that I would have his third and final wish."

"So a good man, on all counts…"

"Yes. He took me to the palace and he offered me a place in his court. A truly gentle soul."

"I see. So you saw it only fitting to covet his young wife. How old was she back then? Wait! Wait, wait I'm getting ahead of myself, right, Sid?"

"I…"

"Cat got your tongue, Sid?"

"Your Honor, this is harassment…" The Prosecutor stood from his sit and marched to Snow, standing right in front of her nose."  
"Actually, I don't see it, Counselor and please do sit down. I find that I am interested in the Djiin's reply." Snow sat back and regarded George in defiance. "21."

"Your honor?" The Prosecutor felt himself losing ground without knowing how or why.

"My stepmother was 21 at that time. Just setting the record straight." She directed her gaze at Regina.

"Thank you, Your Honor." Emma followed the direction of Snow's gaze. It seemed to be locked with Regina's. "So you thought it appropriate repayment for his kindness to covet his 21 year old wife."  
"He was so much older than her. She was unhappy."

"Hold it, hold it. Is this one of the lies she told you or was this true?"

"I… It's…"

"Don't worry, Sid, I told you that I understand. The King was too old for her, being what? 60? 70?"

"65" Snow supplied from her seat.

"Your Honor. These are grounds for a mistrial. If the court cannot be objective, then we must find another one. Or another way?"

"Counselor" Snow was angry. Furious. "You forget yourself. You also seem to forget how peculiar Storybrooke is. Unless you're intending on shipping us all out for a trial. As you were willing to send me out of Storybrooke before. So. Have. A. Care. Besides, supplying facts can hardly be deemed facetious."

Emma was not used to someone having her back. This felt good. "65. That's old. But how old were you Sid. Djinn. Genie. How old were you when you coveted her too?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Henry took Emma's chair while she was up. He leaned into Regina and let her sooth his hair.

"65 is really old." Regina was beyond words. It took all of her energy just to sit there, knowing how this interrogation was going to end. Leopold would still be dead, her child would still be dead and all her secrets would be exposed. She would be pitied if she was lucky. She did not want pity. From anyone. And without pity, it was just motive for murder. Which was true. "How old were you… when you married him?"

Age was different back there. Back then. It was. "17. I was 17."

"You were five years older than me?" The whisper was not as soft as Henry intended it to be. "But what about school? And playing?"

"It was different Henry."

"Doesn't feel like it."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"Well, Sid? How old? 'Cause I seem to remember the Prosecution mentioning _thousand years_ old."

"Old enough for some sense, if you ask me." Granny quipped from the gallery. It made Emma bite the inside of her cheek trying not to laugh out loud and a vein bulge threateningly in the Prosecutor's forehead.

"Thanks, Granny. I'm not sure about you, but I am interested to know what you've done with the wish the king gave you. Because, you know, I would have wished for freedom if she had _entrapped_ me. Wouldn't you, Granny?"

"Sure I would."

"See, Sid, we all would like to know why you didn't use that wish."

"Because I didn't have it."

"Ah, the truth. Okay. Why did you not have it?

"She took it from me." Emma had a quick vision of all the crying, blubbering bullies in all the playgrounds she'd ever been transferred to, crying their pretty eyelashes out when she fought back.

"Aaaaaaaaaaand we were so close to the truth only to lose it again."

"It's not. It's not a lie." Sidney's hands twisted nervously in his lap, wringing and unwriging the skin into white spots over the bony knuckles. "It's not."  
"Your Honor! My witness needs a few minutes recess. He has been bullied and badgered and intimidated and_"

"The witness will answer the question, Counselor. Djiin? Why did you not have that wish?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Sidney considered his options briefly: he could stay and face the room full of people. He could face Emma Swan and _her_. He could face Snow White and even the Prosecutor. The whole town. But he was used to impunity. The whole of his existence was lived in impunity. People made wishes that were all wrong and he still granted them. He had served the queen – and in serving her, himself, and still it was her sitting trial all by herself. Even in this he remained blameless. It was the only way he knew. He did not know accountability.

But the window was so far away. And freedom was not something he knew what to do with. He wanted nothing but the inside of his lamp. Or the other side of the mirror. He wanted it so badly he wished he still had that third wish. He closed down like a defeated animal.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma waited for the reply and had a gut feeling that it would not come. Sidney looked pretty much catatonic and she had a flash of guilt at having pushed perhaps too hard.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and rubbed softly. "You used that wish, didn't you, Sidney? You used it. And I'm going to hazard a guess here: you used it to stay close to her. But you made the same foolish mistake all those who had wished upon your lamp before you did." She rubbed his arm in comfort.

If there was one thing she knew were to wish for things that in the end screwed with your life. "You wished your freedom away…"

"Yes. I used my wish to gaze upon her face forever. I would use it again. I would use it still."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

This was the moment. She knew Regina dreaded this the most. She had spent what? A week? A year with Regina now. And it was her eyes. As she looked at them now, with make-up, heavy and expertly applied, they were still haunted, sad. Most of all, what was in them was familiar as an old song in her ears. She too had secrets she did not want revealed. She too had suffered things she was embarrassed of. Not those where she had fought with equal strength, but those she had been overpowered because she was smaller, weaker. Those were the ones that she was too ashamed to show the scars. Those were the scars she did not brag about. And here they were in front of hundreds of strangers at best, enemies at worst and she was about to parade all those shames and embarrassments. She had spent a year with Regina. A week in her arms. Those eyes were the same since the beginning. Scared, lost and confused at times, still staring back at her. She should have known a lost soul anywhere. And it had taken her a whole year to get here.

"Sidney, I think we're ready for the truth now."

"Okay."

"Those lies you accused her of earlier…"

"Yes…"

"They were not lies, were they Sidney?"

Sidney lowered his head into his hands and cried quietly. "No. They were not."

"How did you know the Queen was unhappy? Was it something she said or something you saw?"

"Both. It was both."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Regina just wanted to sleep. A coma would be better. Amnesia. Anything to stop the memories, the thoughts in her head, the whispers in her mind.

When Sidney began to speak, she wanted to unlearn all her English. She would have preferred to be deaf. Or to be one of those innocent that hear but noises the world makes and understand them in their own way.

His words were echoes. Of Leopold's gruff voice in her ears when he came to her bed, of his hands, rough and cold on her skin, of his body weighing on top of hers, forceful, unyielding. Of her child dead inside her.

She wanted to use her magic to spirit herself away. But there was a collar that burnt the skin around her neck and kept her there. So she did next best thing: she pretended it was not her, that it had happened to somebody else, someone on the evening news or a novel. Someone far removed from her.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

"I have one question left, Sidney. Just one." Emma fought the bile, the bitterness, the nausea. It was not worse that what she had already heard. About Cora, about Daniel. And still, this was a whole new level of hurt. The Genie nodded, defeated. Emma pitied him. "The curse. When the Evil Queen cast the curse, what happened to you?"

"I have gazed upon her face. Every day."

"From inside the lamp? The mirror, perhaps…"

"No. From outside."

"Free?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"So she released you from your wish. Even now that the curse broke, you remain free." Sidney nodded only.

"I'm sorry to say this Sidney, but you have the strangest ways to show appreciation for those that release you."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ**

Emma dismissed Sidney and sat next to Regina and Henry, enveloping her in arms that could no more shield her from the past that had been unleashed on her again than they could protect her from the future.

As the court broke for a recess, Granny approached in unusually uncertain steps and stopping behind their desk cleared her throat. Emma was not ready to let go of Regina, not then, not yet, but she did loosen her hold.

"I don't know how to address you… Mayor Mills? Your Majesty?"

"I call her mom. Maybe you can call her Regina." Henry quipped.

"It's a good name, Henry, you're right." She winked at the boy. "Regina. I will not apologize for that day we marched_ that _I_ marched into your house and we did those things. Everything was different then."

"I don't need your pity, Widow Lucas."  
"That's good because I'm not offering you any. You've done more than enough that I am not in any danger of that, don't you worry. But I could see your shoulders and I can see your face now. The shame is not yours. _This _shame is not yours. Let go of it. Empty your heart of it."

"Shame isn't a strong enough word for what I feel."

"There's no hurt so awful, that you can't add some shame to it and make it even worse. Trust me, Regina Mills, I _know_." And she laid her hand gently on Regina's shoulder, tapped once and took her leave, leaving behind her air that was easier to breathe.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Granny made her way from town hall slash court to her diner where things were familiar and she knew what was what. She remembered King Leopold though her King had been George. It was a strange light Storybrooke put on them. They were supposed to be good. George was, save for persecuting Charming like a plague-carrying rat, a good king, a king that worried about feeding his people and keeping them safe. Leopold was, on all counts, a king that worried about his people first and himself last. The tales of the song and dance his reign had been were the stuff of legend, possibly, enhanced by him being succeeded to the throne by the Evil Queen herself.

But when she looked at them now, hard and proper, it was like they were not the same people. Or maybe it was that they were below their post when scrutinized as men, George with murder in his eyes, Leopold with his careless disregard for a girl little older than his own.

It did not add up with the stories of the old world and she found that it threw her off, that it made her reconsider things she was not quite ready to reconsider.

She opened the door to the diner and turned the little tablet to OPEN and did all the things that were so usual to her here- switch on the lights, switch on the coffee machine, and the mains for the kitchen stoves and washers. She found that the routine of this world soothed her nerves. That she liked this place she was at now. She loved Snow as her own. And there were things she'd never forgive Regina. But she knew of being forgotten by the fairies and the angels and the good gnomes at the bottom of the garden. She knew well what it felt like falling through the hands of the world without anyone picking you up. She knew well how hard it was to pick yourself up and keep going on your own.

The Prosecutor, her old king, pushed through the door, announced by the bell over it and made his way to the counter. "Coffee, please."

Now this was new. The Prosecutor did not enjoy her greasy spoon. "Machine's still heating up."

"I'll wait, if you don't mind."

"Suit yourself." Maybe she should not address her former king so lightly. Maybe there should be some more deference. And yet, respect, like all things, was something you cannot demand unless you deserve it.

It was hard to look at her king and see that worth in him. All she could see was bitterness. And calculation because she had lived her fair deal of years and could smell it in the air. Even now that her wolf was long gone from her.

"Widow Lucas, I was wondering…"  
"Dangerous pastime."

It threw George for a moment. "Ah. Sure… well, I was wondering when we could perhaps have a chat about your testimony."

"My testimony?"  
"Well, yes. I like to be prepared. So I was wondering when you next have 5 minutes, if we could have a chat…"  
"About my testimony…"  
"Indeed, yes." Granny turned to the coffee machine and decided to squeeze out an espresso whether or not the machine was ready. She punched the shiny black buttons, taking out on her beloved machine an anger she was not quite sure she knew why she was feeling.

"What would I be testifying to?" She had not intended to slap the diminutive coffee cup, but the porcelain hit the Formica counter with a clatter.

"I would expect you'd be testifying to your grievances."

"My grievances?" The old king had style, she had to give it him, all poise and composure, the kind that is written in royal genes. He mumbled an assent while ostensibly savoring the strong coffee.

"Do you remember how coffee tasted like back there?"  
"Home, you mean. I don't, no. Can't say that I recall. I find that some of my memories are not quite back. We lost so much our years in this forsaken land."

"30 years." Granny almost pinched her nose at the smell of bullshit and had to remind herself that it was metaphorical. "That's because we did not have coffee. I find that I have not forgotten anything at all."

"Widow Lucas, honestly." George said with a charming smile. "One would think that you are blaming your king for the absence of something that is not of our world."

Granny hated the smarmy smile. She had never seen her king up close and personal back there, but she doubted the smarmy smile was something new.

"I am not. I am merely stating a fact."

"It seems very quiet now. Maybe you could spare those five minutes now."

Granny was not in the habit of waiting for rescue. If she knew one thing it was that some people either rescue themselves or never get anything done. And yet, when young Ashley pushed the door with her back struggling with the stroller complete with baby and diaper bag, Granny was forever thankful to her ancestors, the fairy godmother she did not believe in or any other creature with magical powers that might have supplied this intervention.

Granny rushed to help. "Are you open for lunch, Granny? I just thought I might come in ahead of the crowd, try to get a booth and_" She studied Granny's grim expression and George's carefully arranged one. Her first impulse was to leave. The Prosecutor had been sending out messages to her door every day and she was supposed to testify this afternoon. But the door had closed right in front of the stroller and there was no way she could maneuver the door open before the question came.

"Sit, Ashley. How's the little one?" Deliberately, Granny engaged in baby cooing and baby bouncing and talking dirty nappies in the hopes George would give up, but when she walked back to the counter to place her order at a now busy kitchen, he was still there, still waiting for her reply. "Count me out, Prosecutor."

"Are you passing your right to justice, granny? Are you forsaking your civic duty to protect the weak and the helpless?"

Granny lowered herself across the counter, nose inches away from her former King's nose. She found that invading personal space had a side effect of reducing people to their natural size. "Drink your coffee, Prosecutor, and enjoy it on the house. I find it greatly lifts the spirit. And then skedaddle from my establishment. I always thought that rolling about in the muck is hardly the best way to clean up. Also, I find that very few of Storybrooke's citizens are weak, let alone helpless. Present your case with what you have. It should be enough without you digging into the shit even deeper. And then let justice for that be done. Leave the rest alone, lest you come to find that there are more sinners than this one. Have a good day now." Granny straightened slowly, never breaking eye contact with the prosecutor which told him all he needed to hear.

He finished his coffee and before he could reach Ashley, the crowd swarmed in, like grasshoppers, clouding his vision.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Nova liked the view of the harbor. She liked knowing there were no limits to that body of water, that it was free to go wherever it wanted, to mingle and change as much, as often as it wanted. She liked knowing that there were other places on the other side of it, places that sounded exotic like Azores and interesting like Iceland or magical like Morocco and a different reality from this one where, even after the curse had broken, she was still not free to make her own choices, to go to her own places.

She liked the smell of the Atlantic, even when all it smelled of was rotting fish and oily water from the ships that sailed by without taking her, leaving her behind where her heart's fondest wishes could not- would not for the sake of the greater good - be heeded. She had hoped, once the curse had broken, that things would change. She had hoped for children to be born so that she could become a fairy godmother, she hoped that Dreamy would come to her and tell her that his boat was fixed and of all the places they would go.

But she had been told that she was a fairy, that fairies did not have love lives and did not sail away in boats with dwarves. That she was too clumsy to be a fairy godmother and she should rejoice the curse had broken, because this was the time and the place and that there was much to be done. She was not told whatever it was that had to be done as if that was a mystery that did not belong to the likes of her. She remained, as ever, a prop to be used when needed, without a function of her own, and nothing but a dream of her own.

She saw Dr Hopper moving quite fast, faster than his usual meek way, and it seemed to her that the reason was the old Prosecutor King was chasing him down the street. She liked Dr Hopper. He was kind and gentle, a little clumsy just as she was. And she liked that his job in life was well defined and that it was helping people. She liked that. It had to be fulfilling. And he did not have to wear a uniform to help. She could not quite see the point of the blue restraining uniforms that hurt her back since her wings were threatening to come out of her body, like a wisdom tooth.

Dreamy clomped down the pier, hands stuffed in his pockets, mutinous expression on his face. She didn't quite know how to feel about him. She remembered what she had felt then but could not be sure she felt it still. What she was sure of was that it hurt, it hurt a lot to remember that he had chosen his mine, his brothers, his work and his calling above her, above taking a chance with her. Above seeing the big wide world with her. She turned back to the sea. Maybe he would walk past her. Maybe he would just walk on by.

But Grumpy simply was not minding the world. He was minding his memories. Of Nova, of that night in Firefly Hill and how he wished forever that he had not been in love. Releasing Nova to follow her path, a path bigger than him and his smallness, the smallness of the life he could offer her, was the greatest act of love he could have ever envisioned. And it hurt like a bitch. Time did not heal all wounds, it turned out. Some remained and festered. Changed who you are.

He could well, at times, pity the Queen in that cell, he could pity her for losing all that she had ever loved. Didn't make her any less of a bitch just like it did not make him any less grumpy. Certain things just_ BUMP. He bumped against a body and considered himself lucky to not have knocked them both on the floor seen as he was stockily built. His arms instinctively circled around the body he had hit, but it was more than just offering stabilization that made him hold on when the swath of blue became a nun's dress and the soft sent became Nova. It became reaction.

"Hi."He should let go. His arms should release their hold and let go. Around them all was water and light shining off of it, blinding. And the smell of the water and the noise of the seagulls and it all felt and tasted like that night so long ago, so full of promise and future. "What the…"

Nova simply let her body do what it would, because the smell in the air of was of freedom and adventure even if there was a scent of sadness that wafted somewhere from the past.

"Yeah… what the…"

Soon they would kiss, soon. It was a twin thought. Soon.

But they let go, arms falling to their side. The proximity remained exactly the same, like trees twisted by the wind, still remaining upwards.

"Hi, Nova…" And his smile was something a little painful, unaccustomed in his face so set in its dour ways. "Hi." God, what a pathetic loser.

"Hi Dreamy."

His smile faded to something more manageable by his face muscles. "I haven't been Dreamy for such a long time."

"My wings are coming back." Nova's hand touched his face, softly. She had clue why she should feel the need to share that. But since when did she do the appropriate thing?

"That's nice…"

"It feels strange. I have lived without them for so long."

Leroy had no clue how to respond to that. It was a nice thought, it was hope that the things you lost could somehow be returned to you. But he liked being Leroy. He liked the freedom of it, but it was not the same as being Dreamy. Nothing was. He missed that part of himself now that he knew he had been that. He held on a little tighter. Maybe some of the levity that was Nova could stick to him.

"SISTER ASTRID" the shrill voice of Mother Superior reverberated through the air. It was a kneejerk reaction and Nova was about to let go of Dreamy until it occurred to her that she was not Sister Astrid, that she was Nova. Dreamy had said so. She was Nova and she liked it. Though she still feared Mother Superior. Blue. Resigned, she dropped her hands and pulled her body from Dreamy's gravitational force.

Words failed her. She simply lowered her head and touched her hand to Dreamy's shoulder before following Blue already walking ahead of her, secure in the notion that Nova or Astrid as she was feeling again, was following her, no arguments brokered. She sneaked a glance at Dreamy. Grumpy. His smile had faded and she could not help but feeling that she had just missed an opportunity.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Leroy stood, watching Nova's retreating form. Poison. The Blue Fairy was poison. He was not sure how he knew that, how he could be so sure. She had saved Emma by giving them the enchanted tree, and in so doing, giving them all a chance, but all he could see when he looked at her, when he heard her voice, was the shadow behind her clear eyes, something poisonous and hurtful. Or maybe it was just him being a little sore.

The prosecutor marched again up the sea front avenue and spotted him. So there was no escaping it. Confrontation it was. He Prosecutor squared his shoulders, adjusted his expensive overcoat that fitted him like the royal cloak once had. Leroy turned to face the Atlantic. One of these days he was going to fix his little boat and he was going to sail the ocean. It was probably a good thing that leaving Storybrooke whipped your memories clear. Nothing this land could offer him now could be a better option than simply forgetting about all he had lost.

"Dwarf!" The former king uttered. Had Leroy been the sensitive type he would perhaps have shaken in his foundations at the thoroughly royal command.

"Well, since you reduce me to my lowly station…"

"A fact is fact no matter how you state it."

"Last I checked, politeness does not alter facts with its scent. What do you want from this lowly dwarf?"

"Your testimony. This afternoon."

"No."

"You are being summoned, dwarf."

Leroy turned then. He did confrontation eye to eye better mostly because it was the shortest to way from fist to chin. "One: you are no one to summon me. I serve only one Queen. Two: I said no."

"I am the representative of the court, so your Queen summons you through me. The Queen you owe allegiance to deserves your testimony to be heard so she can get justice."

"That's what you're going with?"

"That's right. Be in court at two o'clock promptly. Serve your queen with your testimony. Or face jail for contempt to court."

Leroy smiled inwardly. He was done doing what he was told. His very existence was an act of rebellion. Conforming had done nothing for him. Had only brought him bitterness and a bad liver to go with it. But he was just petty enough to, for once, take one to the chin just to gain momentum. He was going to enjoy this one immensely. And if Snow did not appreciate the humor… well, all relationships had their problems, didn't they?

"Okay."

The prosecutor walked away without so much as greeting or a farewell, head high in the air, basking in the victory but, possibly, Leroy smiled to himself, looking for any more stragglers that seemed to have lost the fire of revenge. Yeah, people would do that. For good and for bad. Fires died down, just had to give them time enough. Such was the nature of the beast: give them a mob and they will do unspeakable things. When that heat dies down and they have to say and do things in their own name, the tune changes considerably.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina sat in the now familiar small room by the events hall slash court room. Henry sat to her right, Apollo bar in his hand, a residual challenge to her parental authority. A year ago, there would have been no way in hell he would have let her see it in his hand. Sure he would have the occasional chocolate, but he would not rub it in. And she did not resent the status quo. Rebellion was a natural part of the relationship between parents and children. Or so she'd read. It was just that she didn't quite know how to be different. Each and every single one of her own rebellions had been violently punished.

She had started resenting the openness of his challenge when he became more open, more aggressive. She had clung to him tighter and tighter. The more she knew she had to let go, the more she felt the obtuse need to cling. How absurd of her. The moment she had let go, he had come back to her.

It was so hard not to cling now. The hardest thing she had ever done. Harder than sitting through Sidney's testimony. Harder than burying Daniel. And yet, hopeful. She "sucked" as Emma put it, at loving.

And yet, here Emma was, carefully feeding her fries she had never enjoyed until now and a milkshake that used to make her gag. Even the burgers were acceptable. No. It was more than acceptable. Fries and burgers that greased her hands and milkshakes that were too sweet were just wonderful. Her life should not have turned out this way. She had always hoped to die a queen, expected to die at the hands of a murderous mob, or tied and burned at the stake. She had not expected to be surrounded by this type of love that knew the worst of her and still sat with her for burgers and fries and milkshakes.

She smiled a private little smile as Emma fed her more fries. She had two perfectly good hands to eat with but Emma seemed to find it soothing to feed her herself, to make sure, she had said. That Apollo bar in Henry's hand was looking more and more appealing with each bite Emma fed her.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The Prosecutor sat before his exquisitely crafted mahogany dinner table and faced off his expertly cooked lunch of steamed vegetables and _poisson en papillote_ he had no appetite for. No expertly cooked meal seemed appealing. He was too focused on the trial, too focused on the outcome. There was only one which was acceptable and that was the Queen's death. And the bloodier the better. He did not expect a burning at the stake. Snow and her Charming were too steeped in their hippy good and evil concepts. But a beheading would appease him. Failing that, the more traditional American staples of electric chair or lethal injection. Anything, as long as could celebrate a victory. He would look in her eyes before the guillotine blade dropped on her neck and show her who was in charge. The challenging little bitch.

He craved a glass of some deep red wine but was disciplined enough to resist it. He pushed away at his warmed and expertly dressed plate. He had no appetite for food. In his heart there was one thirst, one hunger: victory.

And then he could move on to Snow and _Charming_ and their whelp.

He sipped some ice cold water and stood adjusting his jacket before slipping on his overcoat.

His chef looked dejectedly at the meal and shrugged. Delicacies were wasted on his employer.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Leroy was in court well before 2. He had grabbed a sandwich at Granny's that he did not enjoy no matter how much hot sauce he drowned it in. Meeting Nova had left him with an appetite only for one thing and that was not a bologna sandwich. He had a coke with it. He really wanted a beer, but he was making an effort. Leroy of the curse would not have. But this was, he hoped, a new beginning. From the side door, he studied the slowly filling court room. That bitch mother superior was already there, looking like everyone owed her money and no one was paying. And the Prosecutor, making small sharp notes on his papers. The Sheriff and the Queen were still not there. Snow was also away. He hoped to see Nova again, but she wasn't there. So he moved out of the room and headed towards Main, trying to catch up with Snow before she got all Judge and all.

He saw her walking down the street, her arm draped over Charming's. That was as it should have been all along, but what was the point of the _shoulda coulda woulda_ anyhow? He skulked between the low trees that lined the street and intercepted her before she turned into the pretty walkway to the town hall, pulling her by the arm with a finger over his lips asking her for silence.

It was like being back there. Then. Whatever. They fell into the old camaraderie I the space of a heartbeat. Snow simply gave him the time to speak. He liked that about her. The happy go lucky girl, always ready and spoiling for a fight if it was coming down wind.

"Your father-in-law approached me for a testimony."

"Lovely. How very nice of him."

"Yeah, thought you'd like to know."  
"Why are you telling us this?"

"Because, sister, I don't like him. I don't like him, I don't trust him and if we're about to put people in jail for attempted murder on your shiny little person, then I'm gonna get my big boy pants and I'm gonna slap his arse in jail too because I did not forget how we met."

Snow gave him a quick study, something that would not have been out of place 30 odd years ago, head tilted to the side, looking for and listening to at the same time for things that were not quite visible. "Grumpy, I'm not sure where you're going with this…"  
"Look, sister, your step-mother is a piece of work. Did you know that I picked you up and put you in that glass coffin myself? No? Well, I did. And I didn't think you'd awake from that one. But you did. What I mean is, all those times she tried to kill you, what are the odds she failed them all?"

"I'm not sure I get it…"

"Think about you, will you, 'cause you're a smart cookie… Don't you think she could have killed you quite easily when you met her at that stable? Or any of those other times? Instead of giving you the apple she could have ripped your heart out."

"Why are you defending her?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm not. I'm just thinking. I can think too."  
"She wanted me to suffer; she thought death would be too quick."

"Or too final? She could have ripped your heart out and commanded you forever like she did all those lackeys of hers. She could have had you at her beck and call. Or killed you. But nothing she did was ever final. And never without Charming here being there to save the day."

Snow's hand stiffened in Charming's arm, squeezing. He simply rubbed the pressure off her fingers, a gesture he had not forgotten even after so many years apart.

"She brought us here."

"Where you're a teacher. Others got worse parts of the deal. Listen. I'm not saying to go and forgive the hell out of her. What I'm saying is that maybe… pain changes you, Snow. And you said so yourself, she wasn't always like that. Hell, look at what happen to you back when that glorified garden gnome fed you the forgetting potion. You were one nasty piece of work. All I'm saying is that I, for one, don't want to stoke the fire under that stake your father-in-law is building, ok? And besides, he pisses me off. So, you know, I'm gonna do my thing in there. No offense. And I hope that tonight you can look me in the eye and say _none taken_."

Snow simply hugged her friend. "Knock it off, will you? If people see this, they'll think I've gone soft."

"Okay." Charming simply patted him the back.

"You're a good friend, Grumpy."

"I know you're my king and all, but do you think that we can stick with Leroy?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

It was either a power play with Leroy or the Prosecutor was just too afraid Dr Hopper might pass out. Or revert back to his bug form and escape. Either way, he counted heads in the witness room and called the shrink to the stand before Leroy.

"Dr Hopper. Thank you for coming in this afternoon. I won't detain you long. Can you just state for the record your identity back home."

Dr Hopper blushed a deep shade of red so intense it was visible through his red mop of hair. "Jiminy Cricket. I was Jiminy Cricket."

"Thank you. And what exactly were your functions in the royal court at the time the curse was cast by the defendant?"

"Just a cricket."

"Now, now, Dr Hopper, no need to be modest. You were much more than that, were you not?"

"That was I what I was best at."

"Dr Hopper. Please, your job description. Modesty is a fine virtue but I find that it wastes this court's time. Were you not an advisor to the court?"

"I was Pinnochio's advisor. His conscience if you will." The Prosecutor leaned against the stand and Archie felt the weight of the threat. He straightened his shoulders. "And an advisor to the court. But mostly, I was a cricket. Even if that is not the answer you prefer me to give. For the record, that is."

Ah, the bug had gumption after all. "Well, then, I find that actually this reply is important. If you were only a cricket, tell me then Dr Hopper, cricket, why do you think you were ripped from your life and brought to this place of unhappy endings? What did you do that gained you the wrath of the defendant?"

"I don't think I ever met Ms Mills before Storybrooke."

"Surely you have an explanation as to why you were dragged here…" The Prosecutor was puffing out his chest. Look at that, the bug had actually made a better spectacle of his testimony than he could have hoped for. Good thing he was an adaptable man.

"I do not."

"I'm sure you don't. There was nothing you could have done to incur her wrath" The Prosecutor eyed Regina. "See, I for one, know what I did to upset her. I thwarted her schemes, I was a pebble in her shoe. So I am not surprised she wanted me to suffer. But why would she do that to an innocent creature. Such as a cricket. Harmless, totally harmless." And he shook his head as if it pained him.

"Actually…"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

It was said stuttering, and the red in Archie's face was becoming more and more violent. Regina's hand in Emma's was calm, a little sticky from the Apollo bar she had shared with Henry, but calm. Her fingers brushed Regina's simply for the pleasure of feeling her skin.

"Actually I don't think it was anything anyone specific did. Pain is a broad sword, Counselor. It measures no impact and_"

"Surely you are not excusing the actions of this… of this… mad woman. Surely you are not_"  
"It is customary to allow a witness to finish, I suspect…" George actually sputtered. No, this was not the testimony started two sentences ago. "But I understand – I believe when pressed we all do- how pain can lead you to such actions. How a hurt can be so great that it leaves no space for anything but that pain."  
"I know about pain, Dr Hopper. And yet, here I am, not having killed anyone, not having cursed anyone."

"Then you are a great man, Sir. I can only speak for myself. And I can tell you that I am not harmless. That my own pain cost lives. Even when I did not mean to. I was a cricket. I became a cricket to escape the pain and remorse that came in the wake of that pain. And I can tell you, with all certainty, that not even a cricket is harmless. I have many sins to my name, Prosecutor. We all do, whether we like the notion or not. Some cost dearer than others, but no one is without their sins…" Archie looked around himself, as if finally realizing where he was. He gave a smile that was for one in particular, just a way of centering himself. "For 28 years I did not have the weight of those sins on me. For 28 years I could live as a man in peace. You will not understand the enormity of that blessing, not unless I tell you that even my childhood was burdened by it.

"I believe you'd like me- that you've set me up to look like a victim, Counselor. Believe me, I am not. When all is said and done, I can only wish that the blessing of the last 28 years had been equal for Ms Mills too. I can't help but believe that she was shortchanged by her own curse. And everyone deserves a reprieve.

"I cannot think how it must have been like, how lonely to be the only one remembering when all of us got to forget."

Emma looked at Regina. She had not thought about that. The enormity of everything kept on coming at her in small increments, which was probably good because it was all too much to take in. _Hell_ did not begin to describe what Regina had been through.

And yet, here she was, smelling of chocolate, her hand in Emma's, tears pooling her eyes to unimaginable depths simply because someone, finally, had uttered it out loud. Emma took Regina's fingers to her mouth and kissed them softly.

Looking slightly bewildered, The Prosecutor remarked feebly about Stockholm Syndrome to which Archie simply replied "We are all free to make assumptions. Which are, for their most part, the mother of all mistakes."

"The Prosecution has not further use of this witness"

Emma stood but did not release Regina's hand.

"The defense would like to thank Dr Hopper but has no questions. The prosecution's interrogation was quite… comprehensive."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

His lunch was doing strange things in the Prosecutor's stomach. His nerves were shaken. Not badly. This was not something that could not be dealt with, something that had damaged his case. Dr Hopper was not particularly well loved through the town. He just needed a mother with a child and young Ashley was just the thing to hit the spot. Mothers with children in their arms and tears in their eyes were irresistible. Like desert. So, like desert, he would save it for the end.

Not his least cliché move but lunch really was doing strange things to him.

"The defense calls the Dwarf Grumpy."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Good thing, Grumpy thought, that he was not the kind that worries about what other people thought of him. He swaggered to the chair set out as witness stand and, damn it if it was not a lot like the movies. Not giving a rat's ass about people's opinions didn't mean that he was comfortable sitting there in plain sight of everyone. So he swaggered a little more. A drink would have helped but he was going to stick to the resolution like a clam to a rock.

"Dwarf! State you name for the record."

And there it was, right there, the reason why saved for Snow and Charming, he hated royals, all with silver spoons up their asses. "What, not even a please, a thank you or a good afternoon? You had it in spades for the shrink. Is it because he's a doctor and I'm a janitor?" And he was right in the Prosecutor's face, crawling all over it, in fact. Yeah, suck it up, buttercup.

"Please." The Prosecutor tacked on, reluctantly, but unable to think with the dwarf in his face.

"Feel like I'm moving up socially already! You know what would be really helpful, though? If you dropped the title. I don't call you Human George just for kicks, so extend me the same courtesy, will you?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The Prosecutor was not familiar with the feeling of being mortified, mostly because no one dared confronting him. His mouth set in a hard line, the broadness of his shoulders was intimidation enough and he knew how to use it well. The dwarf was getting under his skin and it was upsetting him and giving him heart burn.

He also did not know how to apologize. He was a king, if not in title, at least at heart and kings did not apologize, feel remorse or bothered by mishaps.

He tried hard to think that this was Storybrooke not his court and that he could try to take this one on the chin, but the words simply would not come.

"Never mind. You don't mind me, I don't mind you, deal?" Leroy put the upset behind him. It was difficult to do that without a drink in him. A bit of hard liquor went a long way in the forgiveness process, but he was going to this in the dry. Which gave him a sense of purpose and accomplishment. He puffed out his stocky chest. "Can we get on with it, though? I have places to go and things to do."

It took the Prosecutor a second to calibrate and adjust.

"Right. Your name and you function at the old White court. Please."

"Ah, there you go, not so difficult, was it? My name is Leroy. Some knew me back there as Grumpy. And besides a miner – dwarf is just the way I was brought into the world- I like to think of it as an alternative to mammal- I was Snow's, I mean, Queen Snow's security advisor."

"So it is fair to say that the defendant had it in for you and that in being brought here, you were being punished for that defense of Queen Snow White."

"Yeah, I guess it is. If I'd been casting a curse of that scope, I wouldn't leave anyone behind. You know, just in case they figured a way to mess with my plans. I would not leave a single loop whole."

"Just like she_" and he pointed dramatically at Regina "did."  
"Nah. I don't think she thought this through." Color rose again in the Prosecutor's face. "For starters, why a kiss? I mean, a kiss? Really? People kiss all the time. What are the odds any schmuck will accidentally kiss your curse adiós? Nah, not me. If I'd been casting this curse, it would be forever. No redemptions. No loop holes."

"Dw_ Grumpy! Anyone hearing you would think that you actually condone this. That you admire this… curse."

"And you got that all by yourself? Sheesh… I don't, if there are any doubts. But I understand. Which is different. I understand that sometimes you need to toss all your toys out of the pram…"  
"This goes well beyond that, Mr Leroy"

"Yeah it does. But the feeling doesn't. Tell me, have you never felt so hurt, have you ever felt such pain that if you didn't turn it outside yourself it would eat you alive?" There was moment of silence, heavy in the room and then Leroy's voice resonated through the walls, through bodies, through the floor. "I know I have. And lucky for everyone, I never had a magic bone in me."

"Let's not generalize, Leroy. I, for one, do not think_"

"Careful where you're going with this, though, Prosecutor. Or I might just have to remind you that your saintliness is not a sure thing. Do you know where I met Snow? No? I don't doubt it. You never spared me a glance. I met her in one of your dungeons. Where you had tossed me for no good reason and her for the reason that she was a kink in your plans to marry off your son to another princess for the price of a ton of gold. And while I'm at it, that wasn't even the only time your tried to kill her, was it? Or Charming. So cut the crap, 'cause if we're gonna point fingers, I have 10 to point at you for that crap."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The thing about Leroy was that he never even broke a sweat and had cut George down to size. Emma's jaw was open in wonder: at Leroy, at Snow and at the sheer fuckery that everybody seemed to take in stride as if it was bread and butter, an everyday occurrence, a tradition, or rain.

But turn around and it's an _hail Mary_ to run and vilify a single person. It got to her. It got to her nerves, it got to her stomach. It got to her feet, tapping on the floor, a small violence. Leroy was right about that: good thing there was not a single magic bone in her body.

A hand rubbed her back, a soothing motion, a whisper of sorts that calmed her down. Emma was pretty sure Regina would have done that to her horses, that rub down. It made her wonder how Regina would have turned out if she had been allowed a normal life. She would have liked to meet that woman, but she was damned sure she would not trade her for this one. It was just curiosity.

"Hey Leroy, just one question."  
"Sure. Knock yourself out."

"How much would you pay to go back home?"

"That ain't home, sister. That was a prison. I'm paying to stay here. Curse or no curse."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The prosecutor was thoroughly disconcerted by the day so far. Sidney, Hopper and the Dwarf should have nailed the final nails to that coffin.

Instead, here he was, trying to churn down his lunch, barely succeeding in keeping calm. There was the uncontrivable evidence of Graham and old Henry Mills' dead bodies. He would make them dance in the court room if he had to. That alone got her a jail sentence no matter what universe they were. But how had it come to this? Where was the mob when he needed it?

He sipped his ice cold water and summoned Cinderella. Mothers with children. Cliché but right now he could do with a flavor of victory.

As the girl would have left the little squirming bundle in someone else's arms, he summoned her to bring the child with her. He needed it. It was like scraping bottom of the barrel but he needed it fiercely to bring them to their senses. Were they forgetting what they were here to do?

"You highness." He bowed respectfully to Ashley as she walked to sit in the witness stand. It had to be done. He had to remind them because god knew that, on her own, in those tatty clothes and unkempt appearance, she would remind no one of the princess she had been.

The child fussed in her arms and it agitated her. He could work with that. He could work with anything. If she looked pathetic enough that might be a good thing.

"Your highness. Briefly recount for the court what happened to your happy ending?"

"I'm sorry?" It was his day to suffer fools, but she looked genuinely overwhelmed with the circumstances and with the squirming child in her arms. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Well, I was just wondering… you had a difficult life until your marriage. A maid in your own home. And then, through kindness alone- and I stress this point, through kindness alone, you marry the man of your dreams and were well on your way to happy ever after. So my question is why? In what way did you wrong the defendant that you deserved to be brought here for a life of squalor anew?"

"Nothing, I hope. I was friendly with Snow. Maybe that was it."

"I'm sure it must hurt your delicate heart to know that you lost everything because of a friendship."

"Delicate heart?" The child was now openly crying, red in the face against the blond mop of hair and the noise was making it very difficult for him to think. "Let me just take her to her daddy, so she can quiet down."

"No, no, it's fine, your highness. Don't worry." Ashley tried to calm her child to no avail. Snow stood and reached out for the little girl. That's how she imagined Emma would have been. She took the fussy baby in her arms and soothed her with a gentle bouncing.

"Look, I didn't know what I'd lost. So I could not resent losing it. And by the time the curse broke, I had it back. Why should I complain?"

"Well, it seems to me you were a single pregnant mother for these last 28 years."

"Now that you mention it, it did seem like a pregnancy would go on forever. But I guess every woman feels that. And still… I would not trade it."  
"You are a good mother, your highness."

"And yet, I had signed a contract to sell her. Yeah, I know, no one wants to hear that. Hell, I don't want to hear that. But when the curse broke, my Thomas was mine again. And I had my baby. When the curse came, Thomas was gone. All because I used magic. All in all, you've got the wrong girl. The curse was not unkind to me. I was what I had been before, nothing more, nothing less. Which was what I deserved. Can I go now?" And she looked around for Snow and her child.

"Can you go? Can you go?" The prosecutor caught himself in time. He wanted… he wanted… he wanted to explode with the whole town. He wanted the destruction every single body in it. Peasants. Peasants them all. And damn them all to hell.

And yet, he was still King George. He bowed to Ashley, something stiff and inaccurate, a little insulting if she'd been so inclined. "The prosecution rests for the day. Your Honor." And he spit the title as he would have a bone.

"Does the defense wish to…" Snow let her words drop, enthralled with the baby in her arms. She looked at Regina and Emma. Maybe a new baby would not be so bad. Maybe she could start again with a new baby.

"Just one." Emma regarded Snow attentively. Snow was made for this, no matter how bad ass she'd been: for babies. She could see it, loads and loads of them round her. And she felt a little twinge of jealousy. "When your Thomas went missing… you said you used magic, but- and I know this is no indication, but didn't think you had any. Magic, that is."

"I don't." Ashley smiled. "Never did."

"Where did you get it, then? I don't know how to even ask this, because I know nothing about it, but.., does it grow on special bushes or something?"

"Oh, no! Rumplestilskin helped. With magic."

"Ah, famous last words if I ever heard any. Gold never helps for free."

"No, he doesn't. He wanted my baby as payment for that magic. He wanted Alexandra." And she looked at her baby with a mix of tenderness and guilt. "And if it had not been for you… And then, back there, I used magic again. To get rid of him. And that's when my Thomas vanished. All magic comes at a price, Rumplestilskin said. But he never said how dear a price it would be."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"He never did." Regina spoke between bites of her dinner. She had a faraway look in her eyes that was a little scary to Emma.

"Who never said what?" Henry put down his spoon. He had reacted before Emma, maybe because he had less reason to be afraid of the things in the past.

"Rumplestilskin. He never said that magic comes at a price. I should have known. But he never said."

"Why would he? Mom? Why would he?" Regina snapped out of it, then, back into the present of her cell.  
"Well, he taught me magic. He taught me everything. Or almost everything."  
"He trained you?"

Regina simply nodded.

"What did he want from you? Because, Regina, he never does anything for free."

"He never said that either, Emma. What did he want from me?"

"It doesn't matter." Emma crawled from her spot on pick nick blanket to where Regina was sitting cross legged and slid her arms around her waist. "He's not getting anything further. No one is. Isn't it, Henry?"

Henry briefly considered joining the hug, but he was a boy of eleven, and boys of eleven do not do PDAs. PDAs are lame after you turned five. He smiled, though the worry about the amount of fairy powder available worried him greatly. Specially with all of them sitting behind closed bars. "Yeah. Anyone up for chocolate?"

Regina's hand was the first one to reach out.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

_For once there is balance in my life. Yes, I have been hurt. It hurts still. It hurts like a bitch, as Emma is so fond of saying. Yes, I have retaliated with pain. I have hated. I hate still. But this is the time where there is love. I am loved._

_How similar it is to a pie chart like the ones I used at the meeting in the town hall. There are big dark slices of hate. Bigger yet, darker yet slices of hurt. But the slice of bright color that is my love grows. And if I keep at it, that slice increases and the others reduce their size. And I have a feeling that if I keep at it, one of these days there might be only very little of those dark slices left and a lot of that bright color. Those dark parts will become insignificant in my life. If only I'm allowed time._

_I'm afraid I will always hate Snow. There are too many years, too many grievances. Too much hate. But seeing her in court today, holding that baby, I was reminded that, as any princess, she was born to do that, to hold a baby in her arms and… I was reminded of all that Emma lost because of me, of all that she should have had and didn't. I was reminded of the little girl I doted on and what I took from her. I was reminded of all that I cannot restore or atone for. And instead of glee, of happiness, I felt only that emptiness Malificent spoke of. And not a little remorse as Emma could have had that. Emma could have been loved like that. It's too late for that now. But there is hope. A careful hope that nothing else but Emma's love has given to me. A tiny, fragile, little hope. But hope. Which is more than I ever had._


	16. Chapter 15

**Author's note:** Thank you to Marie, wonderful beta.

* * *

Chapter 15

It made no sense at all. His castle had been knocked down by his mother. The thing he loved- almost the thing he loved the most (save, of course, for Emma) - had been destroyed by his mother. His Evil Queen mother. So this made no sense at all: his castle stood tall, more beautiful than it had ever been, shiny and smooth, no broken bits, no splinters of wood standing out, no crooked boards from weathering the salty air from the ocean.

So, naturally, because it made no sense, Henry walked towards it to explore it, to see for himself. It looked even better this close up. He could see the wood, polished and smooth, beautiful. "Henry!" A child's voice called. He looked around but couldn't find the source of the voice.

"Hello?"

"Henry!" The voice called again. So he looked again.

"Hey! Where are you?"

"Henry!" This time, when the voice called him, it was coming from the other side of the structure. Henry quickened his step and walked around but found no one. This could be really bad. In movies, this was always the moment the monster posing as a child or a baby showed its true self and shredded you to bits. "Henry?"

"Hey! Where are you?" This time the answer was a giggle. And another as he moved, trying to find the source. And another giggle from yet another direction. He ran, this time. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

One more giggle. It was a beautiful sound, like crystal breaking and Henry ran around and around the structure picking up the little pieces of that crystal laughter. And then he stopped because she was there, sitting right at the top, legs crossed Buda like, smiling. "I caught you!" And he was answered by yet another giggle. The face that turned to him was a carbon copy of Emma's, blond, so sunnily blond, fair skin, angular features much like his own. But the eyes, they were his mother's, dark as coal, deep as the secrets she kept. And just as warm. "Hi! I'm Henry."

"I know, silly!"  
"How?"

The little miniature of Emma gave him a look that was all Regina. "Because you're my brother! Don't tell me you forgot."

"No..."

"You're supposed to protect me. Did you forget?"

"No. I just…"  
"It's alright, Henry. It's okay. I'm okay." And she leaned against his shoulder, a little head so blond it was blinding in the sunlight. "Are you worried about mommy?"

"She's evil."

"What does that mean?"

"It means she did bad things." The child was silent for a while, biting her bottom lip. "She destroyed my castle."

"She built up again for you." And she looked around the new castle to prove a point.

"It's not the same."

"Of course not, but it's wonderful just the same."

"I guess."

"She only wanted to protect you."

"Jiminy said so too."

"Are you going to protect her too? Even if she's evil?"

"What would you do?" And Henry was genuinely curious. He knew what Emma would say. What Emma was doing. But he was a funny mixture of Emma and his mom and forgiveness did not come easy to him.

"I'll protect her. Even if she's evil. And you. And Memma."

"Who's Memma?"

"My Emma, silly! Memma."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Henry was the first to wake up. He was not used to bad mattresses. He was not used to Emma's light snore and he was not used to feet shuffling on dirt floors. The walls of the cave made everything reverberate. He took a moment to study the cell, the bars. He crawled to the closing mechanism. It seemed very _organic_ to the cave itself, as if the bars were as much part of the cave as the rock walls.

He wanted to discuss strategy. He wanted Emma and his mom to wake up and talk to him, explain what on earth could be said in the Evil Queen's defence in the three days' worth of fairy dust they had left. But then again, it was probably unkind to tell his mom that.

Carefully, he stood. Emma was sleeping deeply, the big spoon, around his mom, the little one. They barely fit in that cot. It had to be uncomfortable. He had sat there the night before and it was terrible: hard and lumpy. But there they were, the two of them, easy expressions on their usually tortured faces. His mom had a small smile on her face. Maybe it was the hand draped across her middle, splayed over her front that gave her the certainty that she would not roll to the floor.

Emma protected his mom even in her sleep.

It was kind of sweet. And it was kind of gross, too, them being this… well, intimate with him there. He was not stupid. He knew what grown-ups do when they're in love- more than he was looking at, that was sure, but there's a difference between knowing and having evidence. As if that kiss with everyone in Storybrooke watching was not enough. His mind went to his dream again. Maybe they should not say anything about the shortage of fairy dust to his mom. Maybe it would not be good for her. Maybe he needed to protect her from that knowledge too. She could use this peace for a little while longer.

He went back to the mattress Charming had brought the night before and sat against the rock wall. He missed his book. He missed the old familiar pattern of looking up in the book the answers that Storybrooke and life failed to provide. He missed having clear answers to every question he could fathom.

He crossed his arms over his chest. He did not know very well what to do with the Evil Queen. She had existed and was as real as his mom. She had separated parents from their children, lied, killed and cursed a whole world. But she had done so when she had been in more pain than he could ever imagine. If he looked carefully, there had never been a time when he had felt _that_ lonely. No even when he hadn't had a single friend in the whole world. And even that was not really true, because he'd had Snow even when she was only Miss Blanchard and he'd had Archie and even his mom.

He looked at her again, trying to see on the lines in her face what she had done, what she had gone through. There were no lines- only tiny little ones around her eyes that showed with that small smile she had now, asleep in Emma's arms. He wished she'd had an Archie or a Miss Blanchard. Had she ever had someone be kind to her before Emma?

He could not comprehend such a very long time of being alone and sad.

Maybe she should be punished for the things she had done. How could she not be? He just hoped that it did not mean that she would have to go through it alone. He'd protect her from that. Him and Emma, they would protect her. Evil or not.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The Prosecutor turned in his pristine Egyptian cotton sheets, unable to sleep. But it was more than that, really. Lack of sleep he could deal with. He could undertake a task. He could go through his notes and elaborate on the closing summations. He had done so over and over again. It gave him a sense of… accomplishment. This was his purpose in life. Having lost all that he held dear, he clung to his purpose as Prosecutor.

But he was past the rational time and it bothered him. He was a level headed man, calm, collected, fierce in his purpose. And all he could feel now was a restlessness that had nothing to do with the trial. He felt off. He felt off and he could not define why or in what way and that… feeling increased the more he tried to concentrate on the task at hand- which was, as the clock dictated, to sleep.

He broke into a sweat and the sheets rebelled against him, tangling around his legs. He was not ready to give up on sleep. Sleeping was a task to be undertaken as any another: with success. He stood and marched to the bathroom, showered and changed night clothes, returned to bed.

Cursed woman. Women. The former queen, the current one and her whelp. Surrender power to women and instead of decisive action, all you get for your trouble is _feelings_ and _excuses_ and _tears_ and _weakness._

He would see this mockery of a trial through because he was going to win. He had prepared for victory and it was not like a throng of wronged peasants would ever let it slide. A mob is a beautiful thing and can always be stirred. But to satisfy his hunger, only the witch queen's head one hundred feet away from the rest of her body would do. Insolent, impudent _woman_.

He closed his eyes finally at peace. He understood now the nature of his restlessness. It did not matter how the trial ended because it was not going to be the end of it. Decisive action was needed and he would see to it no matter the end result passed by all the bleeding heart _liberals_ that populated the cesspool that was Storybrooke. He would remind them of the old ways.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Come back to bed." Charming called out, his voice, gruff with sleep, carrying like a caress.

Snow dropped the curtain she was pinching between her fingers, closing the room to the light of the moon and the mercury yellow of the street lamps. "I'm worried."

"He's fine. Henry's fine."

"He should not be behind bars."

Almost 29 years of not recognizing Snow had not dulled Charming's understanding of his wife. He knew her, inside out, like the palm of his hand. And he knew when she was not telling him the whole story. But this was the middle of the night and he would give her this. "Snow. He's with his mother. Surely you don't think anything will happen to him there. Let him have this. You and I know that it may not be for long."

"I don't. I don't know. I used to be so sure of everything and now I'm not. Emma will never let anything happen to him. Never. But I'm not sure. Of how long it will last. Or…"

"I didn't mean Emma." It was a confession he could only make in the dark with the space of the room between them. "I meant Regina." He cut her protest before it was more than a sharp inhale of air. "Even Emma knows his mother is Regina."

"She can't even take care of herself now. She needs my Emma."

"Our Emma."

"Our Emma. She needs our Emma."

Charming slid off the bed and pulled Snow into his arms because that was his way of loving her. "They, then. _They_ won't let anything happen to Henry. But that's not what you're worrying about. That's not what you're biting your lip over." Snow's head simply leaned against his shoulder and burrowed deeper into his arms. "You're worrying about Emma and Regina. About whether Emma will choose her over you."

"No. She would not do that."

"Does she need to chose, Snow?"

"There's too much between us, Regina and I. Too much. I don't think I'll ever _not_ hate her. And Emma… Well, Emma is _with_ her."

"Maybe, my Queen, it is time for one of you to let go."

"Would you?"

"For Emma? For my daughter, whom I get to meet 28 years too late? Yeah. I'm trying to."

"You make it sound so easy…"

"I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I let you think that. It's not. Every time I remember what it felt like the night Emma was born, I go back to hating her. Or the day I found you in that glass coffin." Charming pushed the curtain aside and looked through the window at the sky in its darkest hour, just before dawn. "But I've heard the same you have in that room. I've heard it and I think that sometimes, the hurt is too great, the loneliness too hard, and you lose your way. I know you don't want to hear it, Snow, but Emma was born to save us all. I think that includes her. Maybe, it was her, particularly, who needed saving the most."

"Charming…"

"I know. It's unfair. But I have a soft spot for sob stories."

"You're a soft spot, all of you…"

"Yeah, let's keep that our own little secret…"  
"I've been having dreams."

"What kind of dreams?"  
"About a baby…"  
"Our baby?" He pushed her back to get a better look. "Do you really want to try…"

"Not ours."

"No?" The light in his eyes had dimmed considerably.

"Regina's. I've been dreaming about a baby coming from her." Snow saw it in his eyes that he did not understand. "Theirs, I think. Their baby."

"Theirs?"

This was one of the things Snow loved about Charming: his openness. It never even occurred to him to tell her that it was just a dream or that it was not physically possible. Or that she was losing her ever loving mind. Which she probably was. He just smiled and looked dreamily at her, the same way he used to when they used to sit in the nursery they had built for Emma.

"A baby?" And his arms tightened a little more around her middle. "Tomorrow… What are you going to do about tomorrow?"

She didn't know. She had no clue. "Is that what's worrying you?" She gnawed on her bottom lip again, a gesture that was so Mary Margaret and so little Snow. "You know the truth. You know more than anyone there."  
"So should I lie to give Emma what she wants? To give her this in lieu of all the toys, of all the kisses we did not give her?" He nuzzled her neck. It was the only reply he could give her.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Henry awoke again when Emma called him softly, her hand on his shoulder. She was dressed and ready to go. "Morning, Kid."

Henry stood and wrapped his mattress against the rock wall while Regina readied herself at a darker corner. His eyes measured the space between them and the possibility of the sound carrying. Emma read the worry in his eyes and smoothed his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. "It's going to be alright, Henry. Don't worry so much." She whispered in his year.

"You can't promise that."

No, she couldn't. But sometimes she forgot how bright Henry really was. How old for his years. She pulled him back and looked straight in his eyes. She met them with a steady, unflinching gaze.

"One way or another, kid, it will be alright." She willed him to understand the promise she was making not only to him but to Regina dressing only a few feet away from them. "Cross my heart." Henry turned to gauge how far Regina was. He kissed Emma on her cheek.

"I trust you." And then he made his way to his mother. It left Emma slightly dazed. She liked the kiss. And she was going to do whatever was necessary not only for his but Regina's kisses. She put her hand to her cheek and cupped it as if to stop the kiss from fading. She really liked this kissing business. Almost more than the hugs.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

They were whispering. Henry and Emma were standing mere inches apart and whispering, excluding her from the conversation. She did not try to listen. It took every ounce of will in her, but she did not listen in. She had to trust them.

She pulled her pants closed and delayed the moment of pulling on a turtle neck. The fibbers macerated the skin where it was burning from the collar the fairy put on her every day when she was removed from the cell. When she heard Henry's feet shuffling, she quickly pulled it down her, adjusting it at the waist.

But when she looked up, Henry was looking at her, startled or shocked, she could not quite tell. His hands pulled awkwardly at the sweater and pulled the neck down, revealing the blisters of the burns, some half healed others angry and red. She could see it in his eyes, his next step was to call Emma. Quickly she put her finger over his lips and begged him silently not to say it, not to say a word. And when he tried to move from her to go to Emma, she grabbed his hands and mouthed _Please_ in a silent plea that asked him to protect Emma from the hurt of not being able to do anything at all about it. That asked him not to expose her pain to the public scrutiny.

There were storms brewing in Henry's eyes, so, so much like Emma's. She hated to burden him with a secret. She hated to burden him with a secret from Emma. But she had no choice. _Please_ she mouthed again.

Henry could think of no other reply but to hug her, to wrap his arms tight around her and not let go.

And he was still holding on to her when the Blue Fairy appeared and gave him a saccharine smile. Nor did he let go when she again placed the collar around Regina's neck, even though he could feel his mother's body tense up at the anticipation and she had tried to make him go away for this. He gave the fairy a nasty look, one that said _I know what you're doing_.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma saw things she could not quite understand. She saw Henry's heckles go up when the fairy approached them, she saw Regina's body tense and the way she wanted to push Henry away. Even though that was the last thing Regina ever wanted to do.

And then she saw the way the fairy's smile went from pleasant to creepy while she studied both Regina and Henry. And she did not like it. Not in the least bit.

Hadn't Leroy made a comment or two about the Fairy?

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

As the bus arrived at the town hall, Emma concentrated her immediate attention on finding Leroy. He had said something about the fairy, about not leaving Regina alone with her and she wanted desperately to find out why. Blue was her parents' oldest advisor - or at least one of the most powerful ones - and by all accounts she had been the one to give them a way out, to give them the enchanted tree.

But there was something that made her teeth itch. She had to concentrate on the goings on today and all she could think about was Regina recoiling from the fairy. She grabbed Henry by the scuff of his neck. The kid was not looking at her straight in the eye and he was pursing his lips as if he was trying to stop his mouth from opening and spilling something.

"C'mere, kid."

"Not now, Emma, we should go inside."

"Then tell me quick what happened back there."  
"Where?"

"Talk fast and we go in faster."

"Emma, please."

"Something with the fairy. I know it, so you better tell me, Henry." But Regina breezed in, all cheer as if she was not going in to stand trial, and stood between Emma and Henry, holding on to Emma's arm.

"Let's not keep them waiting. Lateness has never been fashionable."

Emma straightened, her eyes fixed on Henry. "Yes, let's." she spoke directly at him in a tone that said _this conversation is not over yet._

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Granny sat on the chair that Snow had occupied so far and hit her gavel on the table. She had always wanted to do that since she'd watched Perry Mason all those years ago.

"Right, people, simmer down. I'm sitting here today because our esteemed prosecutor thought it might be a little _confusing_ as he put it, to have Snow White be a witness and judge at the same time. Personally, I think it's damned obvious that it is a conflict of interest but then again, what else has this been from the beginning. Nevertheless, this is the way we go. I sit here for today and when he sees fit, the prosecutor will call Snow to testify. Everybody got that?"

There were mumbles from the room but no one really spoke up. Granny took it as her cue to call in the prosecutor who looked a little worse for the wear. She wondered idly if punishment was in the cards for all of the resident bad guys. She could name a few. There were far more lurking in the shadows, her wolf sense told her. Or maybe it was common sense. She wondered how the town would look if all those guilty of something worthy of punishment were suddenly thrown into a cell. Probably, there would be a lot more parking spaces on Main on market days.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

It was strange to the prosecutor that he was relying on a fairy of all things. He did not trust fairies as far as he could spit them. There had been, after all, no fairy godmothers when his wife had been unable to provide him with an heir. There had been no fairies when she'd died miscarrying a child. No help when the James he had raised from a babe had died at Midas' court. No, the fairies had never been of any help to him or his.

But this one seemed to know just how important she was. Her sweet smile made him a little uneasy, her mild and meek manner and soft tone of voice. But she was willing and people loved their fairies. They were sort of a religion from the old land and there was no underestimating how much she could be of assistance now.

When he called her, she stood and walked to the witness stand, all dignity, her head lowered, hands clasped as if she were some religious icon in a church, all beatitude. The prosecutor wondered briefly how she could be that serene. There were such things as sins by omission and as far as he was concerned, she had sinned against him by omission by not saving his dear ones. But this was not the time or the place to rehash. This was the time to make the most of that pretty face and of the blue nunnery uniform he was unsure why she chose to wear still.

He bowed to her slightly and asked reverently- or as reverently as he could mimic- that she state her name for the records.

"I am the Blue Fairy" And she gave that indulgent, slightly condescending smile she would give a child that prayed to her.

"Thank you. Would you please be so kind as to state for this court how you were wronged by the defendant."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Where's your fairy godmother?" Emma leaned into Regina and whispered, never losing sight of the Blue Fairy. Her bullshitmeter was as doing a fairly good imitation of the fire department siren.

Regina gave her a strange look. It did not immediately translate to Emma, concerned that she was in not missing a syllable of the fairy's self indulgent speech. "I didn't have one."

"Why?"

"I just didn't."

"Were you not princess enough for one?"

"I'm not sure of the rules, but I was never a princess. I was born as common as they come. I just married into royalty."

"Did you ever…" Emma turned to her then, because she always did that when words failed her. "like… pray to the fairies or something?"

"There were times… I'd pray to anything. But I did. I prayed to them too."

"And?"

Regina answered with a look that encompassed everything from the room they sat in to all the years between those prayers and the present. It was a look of pure exhaustion. "And nothing. No one ever answered."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The Prosecutor was nothing if not goal orientated which went a long way in helping him smile his own brand of indulgence at the fairy's soft tone of someone telling a bed time story.

"Do you have any idea why the fairies were brought to this land? On all accounts, you were responsible for making our land prosperous, fruitful. But here, in a land without magic, you would not be of much use. I'm just wondering why curse the fairies… Did you ever wrong the defendant? Had you even met her?"

"Well, I'm not sure. It is not in me to understand the nature of evil. But I suppose that, in a way, the… defendant… would be aggrieved by the fact that I provided an escape for the Saviour."

"For which we are very thankful. Would the curse have ever broken had you not provided that escape?"

The Blue Fairy looked at her hands clasped loosely in her lap as if shy to take praise. "It was a very powerful curse. Evil in its purest form. I do not think so."

"So, effectively, those actions cost you everything: your power, your dwelling, your magic."

"A fairy's magic, her power, is only to be of service to others. The fairies lost the power to help all of those that would need help. That was the greatest loss for us. All of those that we could not help, that we could not save."

The awed bliss expressions in the assembly told the prosecutor this was a good witness to be had. And then the commotion started with Gold standing up, leaning against his cane, his expression one of anger. Belle, at his side, remained seated as if she could not stand to be a part of what he planed but could not stand to be apart from him either.

"I suppose then, Miss Blue," and he chewed the word and spit it out, "that you have always helped everyone back _home_."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma turned on her seat. Gold was not good news. Ever. But she found that she wanted to hear what he had to say and that whatever it was that he wanted to say had the same scent of whatever Henry and Regina had hidden from her that morning in the cave.

His eyes were blazing with fury and whatever it was stuck in his craw was bubbling right under the good cut of his suit, held tightly in check by his hands gnarling the cane.

"I suppose that you only ever wanted what's best for every child that ever prayed to you." _Hurt_, Emma identified the undertone to Gold's hateful tone. It was hurt. Deep seated hurt.

"Certainly, Rumplestilskin. That is difference between us. Children pray to me for safe passage from you. You are the stuff of nightmares and I am their salvation. You should know that better than anyone. Your own son, after all, came to me for help, for safe passage from you."

"Not from me!"

The prosecutor stood and objected. "Widow Lucas, if you please! My witness is being intimidated by this man!"

"And the Prosecutor will please remember that she is not your witness but the court's. Having said that, Mr Gold, take it easy, will you!" Granny's voice was somewhere between a plea and a demand, born of years of being crushed under Gold's boot.

"So I suppose it was all fine, pretty words, then, when the prosecutor preached about how we all were entitled to bring our grievances before this court?" Gold regained his composure as he spoke.

"But that surely is a matter for another day! We are here to hear the matter of the people versus Regina Mills, no one else."

"Actually," Emma stood interrupting the Prosecutor, hair waving around her face set in a grim expression. "I think we should hear what Mr Gold has to say. It might be relevant. In fact, I am very interested. Also, he's right: the prosecutor opened that can of worms. We are all entitled to bring our grievances to this court."

"Sustained!" Granny proclaimed from the judge's desk. "I always wanted to say that." She snickered to no one in particular but got some response chuckles from the stands. "Prosecutor?"

The prosecutor rubbed at his right temple but as soon as he was conscious of the gesture, he stopped it as if he had been burned by his own skin. "Miss Blue. Before you were interrupted, you mentioned how fairies use their power for good, and how that use of power got you for our troubles only to be brought here, to this land. Without magic."

"Indeed."

"And how you helped rescue the saviour and bring her to safety. To this land."

"Indeed!" Gold quipped from the stands again. He stood remarkably fast for what Storybrooke was used to. "So how did it feel to separate a child from her parents?"

"I'm not sure I understand your question, Rumplestilskin. Please state your business. I find that it makes me nervous to deal with someone so adept at manipulation, half words and insinuations."  
"Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean. I think you took great pleasure in separating the saviour from her parents. Tell me, does the quality of the pleasure relate in any way to the age of the child you separate from the parents? Their rank, perhaps?"

"Well, I never…!"

"Never what?" Gold was making slow but steady progress towards the witness stand and Emma was already paying attention to how much he was inching forward because she might not like the fairy but no one was getting killed on her watch.

"What are you insinuating, Rumplestilskin? Evil is your purview, not mine."

"Really? Is that why you gave my Bae that bean that took him away from me?"

"What took him away from you was your own cowardice, Rumplestilskin. You are nothing but a coward that allowed his child through a portal alone without heeding that's child's desperate cries for his papa."

"We would have worked through it. You had no business interfering between a child and a parent. We could have worked through it but you did not let us. You took that from my Bae and from me and until today he is still lost. Lost to me. How good does that feel to you? Does it give you power? Or just glee?"

For the first time since her arrival in Storybrooke, Emma felt sorry for Gold. His eyes were wild with fury and grief and loss. And that was something she could easily relate to. Maybe she would let him get a punch or three in.

"I wonder, _Miss Blue_, how many more children you helped in that way, separating them from their parents. How many? I wonder, Miss Blue, if it was you who gave Dr Hopper that gift of becoming something else. I wonder if it was kindness of your heart or simply the need for separating one more child from their parents."

"Don't be ridiculous. Jiminy needed the space to grow as a man. That would have never happened while under the boot of his vile, evil parents."

"So giving him the courage to fight them back, to assert himself, was not an option? And tell me, where were you when Jiminy killed young Geppetto's parents with that potion? Why did you let it happen? There you have it, one more boy alone in the world. Was it just because you were killing two birds with one stone?" There were two audible gasps from the public. Geppetto and Jiminy held fast to each other, as if all those years after they were still trying not to let tragedy come between them. "I wonder, Miss Blue, if anyone knows how Pinocchio got himself a free ride on the enchanted tree express out of the Enchanted Forest. How pleasurable was it for you to separate that boy from his father?"

"How dare you? I gave Geppetto that boy to love. I gave a real boy to him."

"And when he did, you took him away. I suppose that giving a man that had already suffered so much and his wife the capacity to have children was beyond you. You can turn a wooden puppet into a boy but you cannot help them conceive a child. I wonder why?"

The Prosecutor felt a dizzy spell coming over him. He leaned against his desk, trying to catch his breath.

"I saved those children. Geppetto, Pinocchio, Jiminy. Emma. I. Saved. Them."

"Huh." Suddenly Gold seemed absolutely in control of himself, all progress towards the fairy arrested. "I wonder if it's a power thing. Do you feed on the power of grief, fairy? Is that why you have all your girls tucked under their nun habits?"

Could fairies have apoplectic attacks, Emma wondered. "They are not _girls,_ Rumplestilskin. They are fairies of the highest order of the Magiks."

"The witness is excused." The Prosecutor addressed the court instead of the fairy. He could not stand the sight of her. He could not think that she or one of hers could have saved him such grief, could have saved his wife from bleeding to death trying to give him a son. "The witness is free to go." No, that did not sound right either. The witness could not be excused. And should not be free to go. She should be… "The witness can be removed from the court." It was the best it could come up with.

"Actually, I think I would like to cross examine." Emma interrupted the Prosecutor, a little sass in her tone, a little speculation, too. He was clearly unwell and she approached him conversationally, all in a day's work, to hand him a glass of water that rested on his desk. Then, she turned to the fairy. "It's fairly obvious that I know nothing of the goings on in the Enchanted Forest. I mean, how could I, right? I lived there for the whole of 10 minutes or so. So, for my education, Miss Blue, could you please explain the rules to the court?"

"You can call me Blue, sweetheart." And the smile was so saccharine, so bright it turned Emma's stomach a little. "The rules, Emma?" The fairy was composed again, the delicate sweet smile in her face again, the head slightly tilted to one side in rapt attention.

"Yeah, I mean… The rules of _fairydom. _How does it work? Do you have to be a girl to have a fairy god mother? 'Cause save for Pinocchio, I never read about boys having them. Also, do you have to be a princess or can a peasant have one? Do you have to be beautiful? I don't remember a story where an ugly peasant had a fairy good mother. So I guess, I just want to know that. And how does it work. Do you have to pray for one? Or do you get one assigned at birth? That kind of stuff, you know?"

"My dear Emma…. Why would you worry about such matters?" When Emma simply waited for the reply, the fairy continued, pleasant smile forcibly in place. "How much you have missed in life! Well, I would have been your fairy godmother. Had you not been forced to leave the Enchanted Forest, I would have been your fairy godmother. To watch over you and protect you, guide you."

"Thanks." The expression on Emma's face was, though, speculative at best. Not thankful at all. "So what you mean is that there is a fairy attributed to a princess at the moment of her birth. Or conception or whenever."

"Indeed."

"What about the boys? And what if I had been born daughter of a thief and a shepherd? Would I have had you? I mean, you're like the queen of fairies, right?"

"We do not have queens, Emma, sweetheart."  
"But you are the mother superior."

"That was the curse, not something in natural order of fairies. But I am, I'll admit, one of the oldest still alive. So my powers are… greater than some of the others. Magic- good magic- improves with age."

"But what about if I had been born a nobody instead of a… princess?" Emma actually felt herself blush.

"I'm not sure I understand the question, sweetie." And that was a lie. Oh, she understood it well enough. "Oh… sorry about that. Let me give you an example… Ashley… I mean, Cinderella, she had a fairy godmother. According to the stories, that is, so I was wondering_"

"Oh, she had a fairy godmother alright, but he_" and she pointed her accusing finger at Rumplestilskin, "killed her." Ashley nodded in her seat. Gold simply muttered something to the effect of _one less, deary_ but made no further comments and neither did he look at all repentant. He was a watered down version of the old Rumplestilskin in his disdain.

"I see. But she was a commoner. So that must mean that commoners get to have a fairy too."

"Oh no, Emma! I mean… Your Highness… I was as common as coal. My father had land, but he was still only a merchant." Ashley spoke earnestly from her seat. Emma beamed at hear, but Ashley's cheeks tinged red when the fairy gave her an evaluating look. "Sorry I spoke out of turn…"

"She was destined to be a princess."

"Ah, I see. So if you're born important or fated to be important, you get a fairy godmother."

"She was also good and kind and honest."

"Okay. So, girl, important or fated to be important, good, kind and honest. Pretty. I don't get it." The fairy's smile died a little on her face. Emma moved to stand next to Regina and pulled her up by her arm to stand. "Let's discuss Regina: Girl. Check. Important. Not really, she was no princess, at least, but given that she brought us all here, I'd say that she was fated to be important. A queen. So check that one too. Pretty. Check. And for all that Snow, my mother, told me, good and kind and honest until she married my delightful grandfather." Her hold on Regina's arm strengthened as Regina tried to pull away and sit down. "So this is what I don't get. Where was her fairy godmother while her mother- who I met – and let me tell you, _piece of work_ does not even begin to describe that demon- abused her? Where was that fairy godmother when her mother sold her off to marry an older man? Or when her own mother took her heart from her chest? Or when her mother killed her baby still inside her? Did she not pray enough? Was there static on the line and you could not hear her cry? Hell, for the sake of it, where was her beloved's fairy godmother when Regina's mother killed him?"

"I have heard enough, Emma. Not being raised by your parents made you lose all notion of decorum and propriety. If you'll excuse me_"  
"Oh hell, no, lady, you are not excused. You can get out of this room but you are not excused. You know why? You did nothing. You did nothing to help her. So you tell me now: why was evil allowed to triumph?"

"Some things have to come to pass, Emma."

"At her expense? 'Cause let me tell you: the only reason evil triumphed was because you, the good one, did nothing. You sat or hovered or whatever it is you do with your wings and you did nothing. How does that feel? And while I'm at it, and just because I am that brand of curious," Emma took a deep breath and studied Rumplestilskin. Her voice lowered and she turned to study the fairy's reaction. "Care to explain how you knew that the boy screamed for his papa? Were you there, by any chance? Watching?"

Blue remained mutinously silent and that told Emma everything she wanted to know.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Granny had never been particularly fond of fairies. She did not see the point to them, not when you're the one sowing and harvesting and suffering but they were credited with everything so she simply assumed that there was a problem with her and that was it. The world in the Enchanted Forrest was a smaller place and she had grown used to sitting by, fiercely guarding what was hers, hearing the noises of the world and never thinking about it much. Things were the way they were and that was it. But come to think of it, where had her fairy godmother been when she had been taken over by the wolf? Or her daughter's? Where had hers been? Or Red's?

When the fairy offered no reply but a stony offended silence, when Emma sat down and pulled Regina into her arms, Granny took that as body English for _the defence has no further questions._ Which was just as well, because Granny did not believe they were going to get any more out of the fairy.

She adjourned the session until after lunch. It was early still, but the nerves were running high. "See you all here after lunch."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina stared outside the large window of the events room come court. She knew this day would come since the whole trial had started. There was no one, after all, more aggrieved than Snow White. All she had done had been to punish Snow. So this day had been coming, in a way, since the night at the stables, since her mother had killed Daniel with a smile on her face.

A black bird spanned its wings and flew in circles framed by the window. She wondered what went through a bird's mind when it flew. How freedom tasted to that bird.

She rubbed Emma's fingers in hers. To Emma, holding her hand like that, throughout the trial had been something unconscious, something she did without even thinking about. It was Emma's way of affection, those simple touches. To her, though, they were her wings. She was living in a dark cave from where she would probably never leave and withstanding a trial that, if she was lucky, would end with a quick death. But Emma's hand in hers was her freedom, her vast horizon.

That too, in way, had been coming since that night at the stables, if she was in a more poetic mood. They'd had to live through all of that, Snow and her, so that she could be here today knowing what freedom felt like- from her mother, from her life, from her hurt, sitting behind the magic bars and wearing a burning magic collar on her neck.

Whatever that bird felt like could only be an approximation of what she felt now.

The Prosecutor called _Snow White_ in his best resonant voice, the same she remembered from the day she had whisked Charming away from that guillotine. She was not sure what she had expected this time to look like. This woman walking in was not the Mary Margaret she had silently hated for twenty eight years. But she was not the Snow that had stormed her castle and taken her throne. That brash and brazen woman seemed too far away. The years had had strange effect on this Snow. It was a confident woman walking in, but one with a weight on her heart. And she was also the little girl she had once loved. Who had loved her too.

She knew all that Snow would say to the court. She had been there too, after all, and no matter how justified or how crazed those actions had been there had been then, and there were still, consequences.

She let the feeling of the collar burning become conscious pain. The time had come to pay the piper.


	17. Chapter 16

**Author's note 1:** I know that those of you who have not given up on this story probably have your very sharp pitchforks ready and the torches lit to get the lynching mob party started. Let me please apologise first. Having taken so long to update this story, I am not even sure how to begin an apology. I guess _Sorry_ is a good start. So. I am so sorry. In my defence, it took me a while to get the tone of this chapter right(ish). It is such an important chapter in my head because this is Snow and Regina, you know, and for me, this is one of the most important relationships in the show.

I hope it's worth the wait.

**Note number 2:** Thank you to MarieYotz for the betaing services. Join me in wishing her good luck for the very important thing she has to do.

**Note number 3:** I decided that it is a good idea to give you a spoiler for the end of Atonement. So there is a 100 word drabble called "Once Upon a Time" published today on another of my series of stories called 100 words (I know, I know, _so_ imaginative...)

Much love

Jane

* * *

Chapter 16

The incandescent light over the mirror in the marbled toilet at the town hall was unforgiving. Snow tried and failed to wash away the marks of the sleepless night. Her skin was mottled, her eyes red and tired, made all the more obvious for their clear colour against the dark circles. No amount of ice cold water running from the copper taps seemed to return youth to that skin.

Snow's eyes prickled and burned. Sleep had been eluding her since she'd first dreamt of pregnant Regina. She ran her hands down her face trying to make the blood circulate, trying to reactivate her cells or her consciousness. It seemed to be in vain through. She filled her lungs with air and tried to feel more alert, more awake. She hated this day. She hated it thoroughly. She had hated it since it first dawned on her that her turn would come. This was the day she would either lose her daughter or lose herself. Maybe both. Maybe even more.

She could not omit things because of Emma, to gain her daughter's affections in some misguided way. She had an obligation to the truth. She was one of the good ones. She carried that obligation to the truth. Yet, so many years gone, so much water under the bridge, truths had become… diluted, muddled. Coloured by memory and understanding. Truth was not always black and white. Hell, truth had teeth and it bit at you and, sometimes, it was easier to dance with it than to face it head on.

Truth had teeth and claws and she had done her share of creating new truths. She had done her share of letting things become truth. Coming clean now that those things had become truth? She did not quite know how to do it. But Henry sat there, and he looked at her, not a hint of suspicion in his eyes. To him, she could do no wrong.

How difficult was it to believe that. How difficult was it to make it effectively true.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Sister Astrid leaned heavily against the wall. She was vaguely aware of the dust stains imprinting on her dark blue habit but her legs failed her. The strength of her faith dwindled. Something was not right. That was not the Blue Fairy she had known before the curse and it was not the Mother Superior she had confessed to during the Storybrooke years. That was a kind person, understanding – if strict. The person that had sat in the witness stand was someone full of hate, her usually serene features twisted in anger. Her smile had been something unnatural, unsettling. Sister Astrid's heart was heavy with a suspicion she did not know what to with. A suspicion she could not even identify the nature of That the Mother Superior was a bad person? How could it be? It could not. Simply it could not. Not the Mother Superior that had clothed, fed and raised the Storybrooke orphans. Not the Mother Superior that had struggled everyday to keep their poor convent afloat.

She only wanted to look Mother Superior in the eyes because she would know. She would see the truth of her in those eyes. She would see the truth there. She had to because her world was crumbling to dust. She believed the Mother Superior. She took guidance and support from her.

She paced again, short, nervous steps. The sunlight hit the habit and heated her up and she was not feeling at all well. The persistent ache in her back like an infected tooth where her wings wanted to _be_ once again. She rolled her shoulders and tried to think of something else. She tried to think of all the children the Blue Fairy had helped, all the prayers that she had answered. Children had the sweetest prayers. When she had been Nova, she had loved the times Blue had let her come along when a child needed help. Children were precious. Blue had taught her that. No. Rumplestilskin was evil and he was just trying to muddle the waters. Whatever Blue had done had always been to help the children in need. She had to trust that. Otherwise, what else was there to believe in? What else was there to love?

The quick steps of the no-nonsense shoes Mother Superior wore startled her. For a moment, the look in the Mother Superior's eyes was a lot like hate and Sister Astrid recoiled. Then she straightened and pulled her habit into its strict lines and the illusion dispersed. It was a trick of the light. Nothing else. Before her stood the sweet Blue Fairy, the good Mother Superior.

"Mother Superior!"

"Sister Astrid." The tone was clipped but then again that was nothing new. Mother Superior was like, her shoes, a no-nonsense woman and Sister Astrid would not start doubting her now. "Mother superior?"

"Yes. My dear?" the tone morphed from impatient to kind within those three words.

"Mother Superior…"

"Sister Astrid. I long to be back at my convent."

"Certainly." But for some reason, Astrid's feet were rooted to the pavement. "I don't understand."

"What?" The tone was brisk and hard. "What don't you understand?" Astrid heard the tone smoothing over again and she wished she didn't.

"Did the Evil Queen not have a Fairy Godmother?"

"Sister Astrid!" Her first instinct was to cower under the weight of the tone. She had done that all this time because she had taken her vow of obedience and before that, because the Blue Fairy was the oldest one among their numbers and that position demanded respect. But now it was the same as the ache in her back and she wanted to know why, an insistent dull pain that refused to go away, that wanted to be acknowledged. "Did she not have a fairy godmother?"

"Sister Astrid! I will not be questioned."  
"Of course not, Mother Superior." Damned obedience, drilled into them until the nun habits fit them like a second skin or a straight jacket, uncomfortable, restraining. "I just wondered… that's all. I just wondered."

"Sister Astrid, does my word mean nothing to you?" Blue had this way of being in someone's personal space without being really being there that Sister Astrid felt in her body, a weight, a tightening of the habit.

"Of course it does. Mother Superior." Astrid hesitated and the habit tightened around her throat a little more. "Blue." It was hesitant. And stupid. Mother Superior turned on her and levelled her audacity with a stern gaze. No words were required but Mother Superior spoke them just the same.

"We are not in the old land, Sister Astrid."

"No. Mother Superior. Of course not." And Sister Astrid trotted after her Mother Superior towards the convent, one step behind her as it was proper. "Mother Superior?"

Blue stopped abruptly and faced Sister Astrid. "I do not mean to be rude, Sister Astrid, but I would welcome some time to meditate, to reflect."

"I understand, Mother Superior. Forgive me… But."  
"But what?" Her voice lost its musicality and became something hard and unyielding. Astrid wanted to cower in her habit, but the stumps of her wings were there, pressing against the pressed and starched white shirt of the habit.

"My wing_"

"Stop. Sister Astrid, just stop." Astrid's face fell, the smile faltering. "There is nothing wrong. There is nothing sprouting on your back. No wings. There is no magic in this land, remember?" She did. Astrid remembered well enough that there was no magic in this land. And yet, there were two lumps on her back that felt turgid and inflamed, sore against the uniform they were not to remove; there were the the tears cried by a child in need that had never been heeded no matter how much hurt was behind them and, more importantly, there was the anger on the Mother Superior's usually pleasant face. They became lumpy in the back of her mind like the wings that she truly believed wanted to come out on her back. But she was nothing if not submissive, nothing if not a good, obedient nun.

"I'm sorry, Mother Superior."

"Go in peace, Sister Astrid."

They arrived at the convent silent, Mother Superior composed of her anger and Sister Astrid with her questions subdued out of her. Or into the pit of her stomach.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow looked at Storybrooke gathered in the court room. For the last few days, the numbers on the stands had been dwindling slowly as people lost interest, as the fire under them slowly burned out. But when she looked around today, it seemed to her that interest had peaked again. It was probably the novelty effect. They would, for the first time, hear everything from the horse's mouth as it were. She had never told the whole story to anyone. She had never told it chapter and verse. And if she were honest with herself, there were times she had embellished the truth or downplayed her part in it. To others and to herself. For a while she had remained convinced that Regina had given her that apple to bite because she resented the fact that Snow was prettier than her. She had told that lie and, with time, had believed it too. It had become the stuff of legend.

Now, here she stood, facing the consequences of her actions. And there were so many. She was as much to blame as Regina. Emma had called it: evil had triumphed because the good had done nothing while Regina spiralled downwards, unheeded in her pain.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Your Majesty." The Prosecutor's bow was stiff, hardly a bow at all, more insult that courtesy, really. But she expected nothing different from him.

She played along. Politics, wars, alliances had all been ingrained into her as she grew up, her father eager that she be a good queen after his passing. She bowed her head, silently, acknowledging him, but giving him no title. Curious how she had forgotten none of her father's teachings.

"Your Majesty. We have heard a lot these past few days. He have heard of the tormented souls and ruined lives the defendant left in her wake. We have heard of children taken from their parents, of magic stolen, of the depravation and murder. We've heard of lovers separated and of marriages forced upon others. We have heard_"

"Might as well save some for the closing arguments, Gramps... Don't wanna run out..."

"Your _Honour_!" The Prosecutor stumbled on the word. A peasant was a peasant no matter where she sat.

Granny, for her part, recovered the use of her slacked jaw. A latent angered simmered in her generally, but it never failed to bubble up when the Prosecutor spoke.

"If that is an objection, Miss Swan_"

"It is, Your Honour."

"On what grounds?" The Prosecutor smirked knowing he had caught Emma.

"On the grounds of general fuckery!"

There were snickers from the seats behind her. Emma cursed herself for her fly by the seat of your pants approach, but it seemed that both she and Granny agreed on the basic principle description of the Prosecutor's words.

"Sustained." And Granny brought down the gavel. It was going to leave a mark on that pristine table.

The prosecutor swallowed thick but regrouped quickly. Snow studied him with as much detachment as she could muster. There would have to be a time of reckoning with King George.

"For all the accusations brought forth to this court, we still must hear your case. We have heard from you daughter, reluctant though that statement was. But the court, the citizens of Storybrooke, need to hear it from you. They need to hear from you how many attempts there were on your life. On that of your husband. How your throne and your station were taken from you by way of lies and deceit. How you, a child still, were forced into the woods to survive the defendant's murderous intent. Please, Your Majesty, recount for the court. How many times did the defendant try to kill you? How many times did she try to kill your daughter?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina had lost track herself. She had promised herself, every time she'd failed, that she would stop trying only when she stopped drawing breath. Killing Snow, getting rid of her, getting the score settled, was all that helped her survive. And that was before she realised that her life had never been hers to live. When she did, when she understood that she had never been more than a convenient puppet, killing Snow was the only thing that was truly hers. The only purpose that was her own.

She studied Emma, she regarded the fingers that remained laced through hers, steady, unflinching. She expected nothing but disgust from Emma from here on in. She prepared for it. And still, their fingers remained laced. Like the last of the summer wine, she supposed. She committed the feeling to memory. Nothing good in her life had ever lasted long enough. Memory was all she had. For better and for worse.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow regarded her daughter, studied her, the firm set of the jaw- that came from Snow; the eyes that changed with her emotions, between her blue and James' green. She looked into those eyes and waited for the anger, for the resentment. Her daughter had come back to her already in Regina's clutches. Her fists clenched in anger. There would probably never come a time where she could forgive Regina, that she would stop hating her. Snow wondered what she could possibly say that would not damn her one way or another. Gloss over history and Emma- _her Emma-_ might include her in her life; confront it head on and risk losing her daughter just to gain a little payback.

She hated memory. She hated having her memory returned.

.

.

_She dragged herself from her birthing bed. She should have had her baby in her arms and an army of attendants and her adoring husband looking on but all that was left was the plush decoration of an affluent castle, the warmth of the fires that did not reach her bones. Her body rebelled against her, refused her command to move. Only one thought pushed her forward: make sure that Emma made it out of there. Because Emma was their hope and Emma would come back. She would come back and find them and avenge them._

_Her body cried for the baby she should be nursing, for the comfort and safety of James' arms. But in seconds all was lost: her daughter gone, her true love dying on the floor. Her _stepmother_ towering over her, demanding her daughter. _

_Snow felt triumph wash over her, heal her body and her heart: Emma was away. They had won. Regina could do her worst now, but they had won._

_She looked up at Regina and through her tears there was challenge and triumph._ "_You're going to lose. I know that now._"

.

.

"I'm not sure. Lost track, I think." Her hand went to her chest clutching at a pendant that had not been there since the day she had met James. The black fairy dust was long gone but it had been a comfort for far too long to be forgotten. Snow looked at her child and there was no condemnation, no anger in that clear gaze. Emma was much more like James than herself. Easy to anger, easy to forgiveness. "Probably about as many times as I tried to kill her myself."

.

.

_The Hunter's back, clad in her father's army uniform, was the last familiar thing. When it disappeared behind a tree, all that was left was the fear and a pretty gown that protected her neither from cold nor rain nor the sting of the night chill. For that first night, Snow cowered by a clump of trees, shivering with the cold, with the fear, with the loneliness. _

_She missed her father, she missed Regina. She missed her mother. The real one, not the one that had given birth to her and of whom she had only the stories and the paintings hanging on the walls of almost every room, but the one that had smiled at her and taught her to ride a horse without fear. The one that had let her crawl into bed with her until her father had opposed it because Snow was a young lady and she should not be mollycoddled, so that she'd grow brave like her dear mother and her father._

_She wiped away at the tears that fell stubbornly and burrowed into the gown. She did not feel brave. She was nothing but a disappointment to her dear mother and to her father. She prayed then. She prayed to the fairies to come and take her away to her dear mother or to her father. She wanted Regina. She wanted the safety of her. But that could not be now because of Regina's betrayal. That angered her. She'd thought that Regina would always be hers, would always belong to her. Regina was her choice. She'd always been very aware of her possessions. She'd always worried Regina would do something that would upset father, afraid that he would reconsider letting Snow keep her. She sniffled again and again, for her father, now lost to her, for her mother and for Regina. For herself. _

_A blue light shimmered in the forest then. Snow wished she had not been in the habit of listening to the conversations of the kitchen maids when they told stories of unspeakable horrors in the forest. She was certain that such monsters would be coming for her now._

_But when the blue light materialised, it was no monster. It was a fairy. _

_Snow would never forget her first encounter with one. The fairy had told her all would be well, but that she should leave. She should make haste and leave her father's kingdom where she'd never be safe from the Evil Queen. _

_It shocked her then. She knew of course, that Regina had ordered her dead and why. And yet, this was more shocking, to hear Regina referred to by that moniker for the very first time. To hear that there was no chance for her to go back. That they would never make amends._

_She felt silly, very, very silly because in her heart of hearts she had imagined that Regina would regret her actions, would come after her and take her home amidst tears and cries of forgiveness. As the fairy spoke, she was told to _protect _herself. That the Queen would always be her enemy, that she should never be trusted, that every word the Queen had spoken in kindness to her had been a lie._

_Snow hated Regina then. She hated her with all that she had in her heart. The fairy told her of weapons, of a substance so powerful that it could reduce anyone to a bug that could easily be crushed with a sole finger. Told her where to find it. How to get to it. What to barter for it._

_And when Snow had been too afraid to let go of her tree, to stand and walk in the direction the fairy pointed her to, The Blue fairy simply conjured up a crystal vial with a silver stopper. _

"_Do not hesitate, child. If the opportunity comes, seize it. Do not waste it. It is very rare, the last in our land." Snow took the vial with a solemn expression on her face, a fierceness in her heart. "Remember, child, the Queen is Evil and she is your enemy. Do what you must to survive. Call for me whenever you need help."_

_Snow repeated like a mantra: _Regina is bad. Regina is bad. Regina is bad._ As soon as the fairy twinkled out, she sat on the wet ground, hugged her knees to her chest and told herself that none of the embraces or kisses, none of the soothing words or the encouraging smiles had even been true._

_And she resented Regina even more. She clutched at the vial hanging from a silver chain at her neck. She would use it if she had the opportunity. She thought of her father, her kind, kind father dead, cold in that coffin. And she swore that she would use anything- everything- she could lay her hands on to… defeat her. The Queen. She would defeat the Queen._

_It would be years until she let herself think of Regina as her mother again. Twenty-eight of which were spent under a curse._

.

.

"Your Highness. I understand these memories are painful, but we do need to hear from you. Silence is not acceptable."

"Huh." Snow shrugged as if the movement of the shoulders could push away at the bitter taste in her mouth. "I wonder why, though..."

"I would appreciate if the witness could simply reply to the question. Questioning is for the court, not for the witnesses." Snow shook her head, a pained look of disappointment.

"I thought we were here to get answers. All of us."  
"Your Majesty." The Prosecutor's patience seemed to wear thin. "May I respectfully remind you that one this one occasion, you are a witness for the court whether or not _a Queen_." Snow nodded and that seemed to appease the Prosecutor. "Your Majesty." The tone was an entreaty to start again. The Prosecutor's patience was back, the voice kind. "You were quite young when the defendant first tried to kill you." It was not a question, not really, but the inflection on the Prosecutor's voice claimed a reply.

"I had turned 16. Right after she had my father killed."

"The defendant," And his finger swept the room to end up pointing at Regina. "Sent you into the woods with a guard from your father's army with instructions to slaughter you and bring your heart as proof."

"The Huntsman. He was not of my father's guard. But he was a good man."

"One that died here in Storybrooke."

"His heart failed him. He had a good heart but it failed him."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

He would never not protect Snow. That was the way of things, how he was designed. What the Huntsman had told him so long ago, he'd kept to himself. What good would it do to Snow to carry one more burden? He never told her that the Queen took the Huntsman's heart as payback. Or that the man had factually forfeited his freedom for hers. What good would it do?

He spared her all he could.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"The time to remember the Huntsman's death, our late sheriff, will come. Let there be no doubt," The Prosecutor turned his back to Snow and addressed the crowd. "Because he died at the hands of this murderer. Not 29 years ago, but less than a year ago. When all the excuses had run out. But the time for the Huntsman to be heard will come. For now," He returned his gaze to Snow, and grown woman or not, she could not help the shiver of apprehension. "Let us concern ourselves with the usurpation of your throne. She sent you into the woods, to your death, because she wanted the throne that was lawfully yours." The Prosecutor's voice oozed sympathy for the pathetic orphan he wanted Snow to be seen as.

Snow thought she might throw up if he dared touch her to complete the picture of the sympathetic man. "She wanted you gone because you were the first in line to the throne. Because you were… are… well, prettier than her."

The trouble with lies is that they have short wobbly legs and they cannot run for long. Snow's eyes lowered to James' ring, to all that it meant.

_She gave me a poisoned apple because she thought I was prettier than her._

She found James in the room without having to look for him. They had that. Maybe that was True Love. Or it was just that they had this awareness of each other. His green eyes smiled at her. So much like Emma, so quick to anger and quick to forgive. She drew strength from them.

.

_._

_Snow wanted to confess. She spent an in ordinate amount of time rehearsing the words, hoping for a forgiving combination of them that would let James see that she was just a child, that she had not done it on purpose. That it was Cora that had truly killed Daniel. That Regina was mad with grief and could not see her mother as the true culprit. _

_They were starting their married life. There should be no secrets between them. Secrets would drive them apart. Truth was their glue. That ring on her finger, his mother's last sacrifice. She wanted to be worthy of all of that. She wanted to start their life with truth, as the sex would not even be a novelty between them at that point. But by then, she was the only one that actually knew Regina. For everyone else, she was just the evil that persecuted poor Snow White. _

_Charming believed that she was shaken by the appearance of the evil queen. His anger was righteous because Snow was just someone that needed protection. So when James made his way to their chambers, she found it better to fall into his arms, to keep her secret. James was so strict with his lines about good and evil and secrets were, she had come to understand, the key to a solid marriage._

_Of all the words she had rehearsed, the only ones that came out were the easy ones. _

"_I love you." How strange - she had helped destroy a life by telling a secret and now was starting hers by keeping it._

_._

_._

"She gave me that apple because I told her secret. " A cold silence fell in the room. She closed her eyes. Tears rolled silently down her pale cheeks. She could feel the eyes on her, the judgement, the condemnation. Or maybe it was all in her head.

"Not because you are prettier than her?" The Prosecutor intoned incredulous, the acid again churning in his stomach.

"No."

"Because you told her secret?" The Prosecutor fingered the roll of Tums in his pocket. He hated weaknesses such as this one but the acid in his stomach burned all the way up to his throat.

"Yes." Snow took the tissue Granny handed her with a soft smile.

"No secret in the world is worth a life." _Screw it,_ the Prosecutor decided and did quick work of the pack of Tums, slipping one into his mouth.

"I told her secret. I told her secret and she lost her love. Because of me."

"But what about your father?" The Prosecutor smoothed his hand over his exquisite silk tie, enjoying this one little success: the anti-acid was working. He was going to have to pack a few bags of this Tums business if they ever went back home.  
"My father was not her true love. Daniel. His name was Daniel. He died because I did not keep her secret."

Snow thought of Emma and her hand on Regina's pregnant abdomen and felt dizzy, sick. Angry. Jealous. Something akin to when her father used to send her to her chambers; when her father looked at Regina like a prized mare and told her gently to go to her chambers and locked the door behind her.

Snow had felt something from the very beginning she was not exactly proud of: Regina belonged to her, like a thing, a chattel, a doll.

"She gave me the poisoned apple…" She could not look at Regina in the eye. She could not stand to go back so many years and feel the wide eyed love and fascination give way to so much resentment and hate. "I took her true love from her. She gave me that apple because she was forced to marry my father, to love _me_ and care for _me_, the one that cost her everything."

_Was that enough truth?_

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Something tight clenched in Emma's chest, something a little mean, a little vulgar, a smallness of the heart that she hated even as she could not stop herself from feeling: jealous. How stupid was it, to be jealous of a dead guy. Someone Regina had suffered so much over. But he was _the someone_ she inflicted so much pain over. The linchpin to all of this. Hearing Snow confess, doing the math in her own head, well, that was just… a pile up of 20 cars on Love Highway- and where had _that_ thought come from? She would never be loved like that. She had never been loved like that. And she goes and falls- _oh shit_- for the girl that actually felt it, that actually _had _the _been there done that_ to say. Her fingers stilled, her mouth dried like a desert. For once, she had something that was only hers. And yes, she was quite aware of how childish and selfish and obnoxious she was at that moment. She worked to swallow the knot in her throat but the damned thing just grew and tightened and took more and more of her space to breathe and settled on her chest as if it were the size of an elephant. Because coming from Snow, the words Daniel and True Love were just a rusty spoon that was having a very good go at ripping her heart out.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina felt Emma's fingers still. She felt them going cold and felt the distance between them grow and widen. Snow's voice grated, was salt in every wound. Regina let it fade into the background, little more that a swarm of bees, vaguely annoying, vaguely threatening. The damning of Snow's testimony no longer registered. Everything about this trial was a foregone conclusion. It did not worry her, because there was a twisted comfort in knowing your end, far easier that living day in, day out, loving someone and not knowing when that person would be ripped from you. This was easier by far, knowing she would not outlive Emma. It was reassuring. She could do it. She could do it as long as Emma held her hand through the process. She had promised herself she wouldn't lose herself in teenage fantasies of valiant Knights and miracle resolutions. She could live on whispers of happiness as long as she remembered who she was and what her role in the story was. But it all hinged on Emma not letting go. Just as long as Emma did not let go.

But Emma was there, fingers still, cold, as if she was somewhere else, lost to her. _Look at me Emma, please look at me. _Lost to her. _Please Emma. Where did you go?_ Snow's voice was still droning and all Regina could think was that she had lost again. That Emma was lost to her and she could not find her. Even if their fingers were still laced together.

Her free hand clenched at the arm of chair, the wood unforgiving to her short fingernails. She swallowed thick and raised her head, chin pointed. She'd stand. She'd keep on standing but only because it was a life time habit and her body would not bend.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Surely, Your Majesty, you were acting in self-defence." Ah, yes. That was a handy concept. She never did leave her father's kingdom. That would have been self-defence. She never did so much as leave the woods surrounding the palace, the black fairy dust dangling from the chain on her neck. Truth was, she wanted Regina to see her. She wanted to be the one to kill the Queen, face to face, the ultimate intimacy.

She had stolen from the Queen's guards, and from the nobles that swore fealty to the Queen. Self preservation was a very handy concept indeed. Like an arrow shot from a safe place.

"Self-defence. Yes."

The Prosecutor was talking and the sound seemed to come with un-synced with the movements of his mouth. All Snow could see was Regina standing so close to Emma, their fingers touching.

.

.

"_Go now, Snow dear." Her father was a good man. She was well aware of her privilege in life, to be so well loved by her father. Any other king, any other man would have stopped at nothing for a male heir. Her father was content with her alone. He sat her on his knee and taught her to be a queen. They were the world to each other since her dear mother had died. But she was also well aware of the things she could not be to her father. The kitchen maids spoke loud and in rambunctious tones even if they respected their king, loved him dearly. But they spoke._

_They spoke of the Queen and of her scared doe eyes when the king passed her by. They spoke of her bed clothes and of her intimate clothes and how the queen would bear pretty children. How they all hoped for a boy._

_Snow hovered around Regina, willing the mystery of the bed clothes and the intimate clothes to be revealed. She did not understand what they meant, they spoke in half words instead of the loud brash tones they used for every other conversation._

_She wanted to know if that had anything to do with the way Regina's fear gripped at her whenever her father told her to go to her chambers and to be a god girl. She wanted to know why her father looked at Regina _that_ way, that way that made Regina's eyes lose all light and chased away at even the smallest smiles Snow managed to conjure out of her. Snow wanted to know if it had anything to do with the way Regina's fingers tightened around the arm of the chair or the clothes she wore as if she was trying not to drown. _

_But Snow was a good girl. She was a good daughter and her father was good and kind and she walked to her chambers because Regina was not hers alone._

_Then one day, something was wrong. She was not allowed into Regina's chambers. Cora's voice whispered from inside. She had grown to fear Cora from the deepest places in her heart. Snow was ingenious. She knew her castle well (indulged in every single whim) and she entered Regina's chambers by the secret door. She regretted it the moment she could see anything. There was so much blood, all of it on Regina. She thought _this is it, she is lost to me. I'm losing another mother_, but Cora was there, patting her hand while Regina's fingers tightened around the sheet so tight they were white, white, white as snow. There was red blood and white fingers and black hair. That was all. _

_Snow ran. She ran as fast as she could until she reached her chambers. Then she sat, perfectly composed, perfectly poised trying to _unsee _all the red. She picked up books and read, took lessons and walks in the bitter cold rain that seemed it would never stop. Anything not to see _it_. She did not want to see _her_. She studiously stayed away from the kitchens where everyone was talking in hushed tones. She lost her battle on the second day. Her father was sitting in Regina's chambers, by her bed. She peeked through the door. There was still white and there was still black. But no more red. She made her way in but could not find the words in her, anything kind to say. She remained silent even as her father patted Regina's deathly pale hand. "Don't worry, dear, I still have Snow."_

_Two good things came out of all that red: she never did get around to having a baby brother and Cora disappeared never to be seen again._

.

.

How different would Regina's life have been had Snow not been on a spooked horse? Those fingers would have caressed instead of killed, her voice would have sung instead of cursing.

Snow wanted to cry. She wanted to be out of here. This was private. This was hers. How could she possibly choose between Emma's happiness and Regina finally being punished?

.

.

_The days leading up to Emma's birth had been fraught with preparations for the birth and for the curse coming. Snow led her people in this as she did in everything else. She was a Queen and her father had taught her well. But at night, in the dreams she never told Charming about, she remembered Regina. The one with the vacant stare after she had miscarried her child._

_She often wished she was not in the habit of listening to the maids' conversations in the kitchen. She had hated them all. For saying that Regina was useless. What about her? Regina was supposed to take care of her, to be her mother. Surely that should be enough? Why wish for more? Why was it so important that Regina produced an heir? She was enough. And this was, surely, a sign that things should remain the way they were. She ran up to Regina's chambers, a tray with tea and a rose. "You don't need to worry, Regina. You still have me." And she smiled. She was fifteen and she smiled because she was sure, in her heart of hearts that she was enough because Regina loved her._

_Regina did not drink that tea. She did not smile a kind smile again. Only a mockery of that smile, something twisted and angry, violent._

_And in those weeks leading up to Emma's birth, Snow finally understood that she could not have replaced Regina's baby no matter what. It took someone growing inside her to understand that Regina's loss that day had no possible salve, no tea could make better, no words could sooth. _

_By then it was too late._

.

.

A baby. Regina's baby. Life was cruel and wonderfully inventive. A baby. The Prosecutor spoke on and on. The tone was dramatic but she could not, for the life of her make out the words. She just couldn't. She knew everything that he would say. She could guess everything he would ask. And her heart was not in it. Regina had become evil. Maybe that day that Cora had locked herself with Regina in her chambers. She could almost pin point it to that day, so yes, maybe Regina had become evil, not always been that way.

But the fact remained and was history now: they were here, they had been cursed. Her daughter had grown up an abandoned child that would never fully heal and she had missed all that time with her. She had lost her father. No matter what he had done to Regina. And she had lost her home. No matter what had happened to Regina. It did not matter. Regina had taken it all from her. Extenuating circumstances or not, she had taken it all from her. Surely that warranted some punishment. She needed Regina's punishment.

Something in her chest shrivelled, shrunk in embarrassment, in self loathing. But retribution was needed. That was the way of things.

"Your Majesty, I can see you're quite unwell and that your sense of honour dictates that you too have some blame in her choices. But answer, I beg you, this very simple question: does she deserve to go free or does she deserve punishment?"

And it was like being back listening to the impertinent maids speaking about Regina's shortcomings in such unkind way. She was _her_ Regina, _her_ choice and no one else should be allowed to speak ill of her. It was an old, infantile anger, but Storybrooke held its collective breath when instead of answering the question, Snow White simply turned on her father-in-law and asked, softly but with deadly intent "Just about as much as you, King George, for purchasing babies from Rumplestilskin, for having them killed facing off killers for money. For trying to kill them. My Husband. You tried to kill my husband, your purchased son. For cursing me to never conceive a child. You cursed me to never conceive a child. Your heart was broken so you cursed me to never conceive a child of my own. Are you willing to stand trial as well?"

The Prosecutor was too experienced to choke or to let the colour rise in his face. But he stood there, unable to formulate so much as a dismissal, the Tums turning to chalk in his mouth.

"I believe that it is your turn now, Sheriff. For the defence, I mean." Granny called out to her, and there was a light of battle in her eyes.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma stood and eyed the tub of Tums on the Prosecutor's fingers. Maybe she could lift one without him even noticing. There was a time she'd had mad skills and nimble fingers for lifting _interesting_ property. She was definitely interested in the Tums.

"Snow… who was Daniel? I mean, I think I got the basics by now, you know, male, True Love, losing him drove her crazy… so, yeah… the basics. But for the peanut gallery, please, who was he?" Maybe she should send out for a truckload of Tums because even saying the name out loud was causing the acid to flare up in her stomach.

"The stable boy."

"Not a prince or a powerful wizard or something like that?"

"No. A stable boy." _At least that: nothing much of a guy. Emma Swan in a nutshell. No inferiority complex on that front._

"Right, okay. Good looking? Wait, never mind. Not important. Stable boy. What was that in today's currency?"

"Emma?"

"You know, if it was today, he would be what? A doctor? A lawyer?"

"More like… a school dropout working at the local body shop."

"The greedy Evil Queen's- the one that only wanted to get rid of you for your throne- true love? A lowly stable boy?"

"Yes." Emma stuck her hands in her pockets and her expression was one of doubt that pinched at her nose.

"Okay. So… she loses her true love. Is forced – at seventeen - into a marriage with an old guy, to care for a child that was not her own and… right, okay. Peachy little life." Snow nodded. "How did you cause her to lose Daniel… her true love." _God, no matter how she chose to say it, it burned in her tongue all the way down to her stomach._ "You told a secret. How did that get him killed?" _Better. '_Him'_ was easier to say._

"I told Cora. I told Cora. Oh God, I told Cora."

God, what was it with this people that even when they cried they looked so pretty? She herself looked like crap, red, swollen, bruised, her mouth at an ugly angle. Crying did not look perfect on Emma. What was that all about? "Okay. You told her mother. Then what?"

.

.

_Regina looked like the perfect doll in her white gown. Except the smile was gone. _

"_But… I thought… You were in love."_

"_So did I. But I was wrong. Daniel has run away. What I had with Daniel wasn't real. It was an infatuation. You see, that's the thing about love. It can come in the most unexpected places. Your father and I have something even more special, because it's not just about the two of us. It's about all of us. We're going to be a family."_

_._

_._

"Then Regina was trying on a wedding gown to marry my father. She said Daniel had run away."

"So she didn't tell you the truth. Why do you think that is?"

Snow shook her head. She'd thought about it often, in the beginning, in the woods. She thought that Regina had started her evil plans to kill her, to kill her father, right on that day. "I don't know."

Emma stopped her pacing and looked at Snow, studying her. "Snow…" _Mom._

Snow looked up, a baleful stare. "It has taken me a while and even now I'm not sure. I was a child, Emma. Just a child. And Daniel was dead. Her true love was dead. You should have seen the way she spoke about true love…"

"How, Snow? How did she talk about true love?" _Welcome to Jealousyville Amusement Park. For the price of admission, you get the inferiority complex, the heartache and a splitting headache."_

"She said it was the greatest magic of all. She had stars in her eyes."

"And then Cora…"

"And then Cora ripped his heart out. In front of her. The very next night."

"So she did not tell you, a privileged child, that the love of her life had been killed by her mother and that her only shot at happiness had died with him." She waited a beat for Snow to catch up. "Wow... ruthless, heartless bitch…"

Snow stole a glance at Regina, trying to find that girl from so long ago. Emma snuck one more glance at the Prosecutor's Tums. Hidden by his briefcase.

"Some bridges, Emma, we cross on our own, no matter who drove us to them."

"Meaning?" Emma spoke, her back to the prosecutor, just wandering around the room.

"Meaning... I can feel sorry for what happened to her. I do. But I don't think I will ever forgive her. I don't think I will ever… not hate her for what she has done to us. To all of us. To me. To you. I don't think I will. I cannot find in what we've heard so far a justification for any of it. I'm so sorry."

"You and David… James… It's true love, isn't it?" _Gotcha! _She closed the tub of Tums in her palm before walking to face Snow again.

"Yes, it is." She smiled at James, a private little smile, unhurried, so much time ahead of you kind of smile. Emma popped the first Tums into her mouth.

"What if he had been killed? What if his heart had been ripped from his chest- from you- before you had even lived?" Snow's smile extinguished. Emma chewed her Tums praying for it to do what it said on the pack. "I hear that not having someone you love can make you do unspeakable things…"

Snow did not speak. Big, fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Emma touched her hand in sympathy. "I think I don't have any further questions, Granny." She spoke through a voice that had gone gravel.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Will you stay tonight?" Regina's voice was small. She needed Emma and she was not used to needing anyone, not like that, not so hard that it was physical. Snow's tears had brought her no joy, no satisfaction, just weariness to her bones. Emma was distant, strange and that hurt.

"I need to speak to Leroy, check on Henry, on Snow. I need to prepare. We're next." The weight of the fairy dust running out was heavy on her mind, on her heart; the need to start talking to people, to get some to testify for the defence… time was running out and she was lost as to what to do, how to tip the scales. How to save Regina. But it was more than that. Emma was tough. She was born tough and had developed thick skin. But she had some tender in her. And that tender bruised easily. And tonight, she wanted to work, to do something that would let her work away the acid still churning in her stomach despite three peach Tums.

Blue closed the cell bars once she had removed Regina's collar and her stare was almost a raised middle finger that had little business on the face of the mother superior of all fairydom. Emma gave the fairy a pointed look. She approached the bars and leaned her face against the rusty iron. "Not tonight." Regina's heart was breaking so loud she could hear it from where she stood. She touched her face across the bars and Regina simply leaned into the touch, against the bars that immediately heated up to her touch.

"I'm sorry, Emma."  
"For what? For loving him?"

"For not being better… good."  
"What are you talking about?" She felt it more than saw it, the fairy hovering around them. Emma held Regina's hand against the bar and shot the fairy a dirty look. "Do you mind?"

The fairy's face twisted in anger. Emma tossed her the tub of Tums. "Help yourself. Outside." Blue had the good sense- or the sense of preservation- to walk away then, the look on her face one of tempestuous grievance. "Regina, what are you talking about?"

"All of it. I'm so sorry. I didn't expect you'd last this long."

"Regina, dumb it down for me, please."

"The staying. Everybody_"  
"Leaves, yeah, I know, you said that before. Is that what you think I'm doing?" Regina merely nodded because if she had uttered so much as a sound she would be doing a Snow, crying big fat tears too. "Oh man! No, listen, no, it's not that at all."

Regina bit her tears down, fiercely. "I don't blame you. I know what I've done. Your mother is right, you know? Some bridges we cross on our own no matter who pushed us there." And this was a goodbye, Regina knew it in her bones, in her breaking heart. "But I am sorry. For once I regret what I have done."

Emma pushed against the bars, already regretting her decision to not stay. She was not good with words, total crap, actually, and now words were all she had to sort this mess.

"Regina, I'm not going to gloss over it. You had some fucked up shit going on. And you made your choices and we are all living with them now. But… shit… Tell me something: what's the difference between Snow and Jefferson?" Regina could find no words, no air to reply. "No? The way I see it, my mother screwed you over far more than he did, didn't she? But here's the thing. You took it all from her. Her kingdom, her true love, her daughter. Her happy ending. You took it all." This was it. The end. A single tear ran down Regina's cheek then. Emma touched it with her finger as if it were precious. "Jefferson remembers everything. Every single day of those 28 years without his daughter, seeing her there, every day. It nearly killed him. But Snow? She did not remember a thing. She never missed it, she never grieved it. She simply did not know. That was a small mercy a mother gives a daughter. I know you, Regina. I know what you did. I'm not going anywhere."

Regina's heart was beating fast, fast, fast, painfully fast in her chest. "You were pulling away. What happened today?"

What was the point of pretending? "Daniel."

"What of him?"

"He's your true love. Like… I mean, it's not enough that you lost the guy you loved- who was kind and sweet and perfect- he's your true love. And he's dead. He's never going to screw up, he's never going to say the wrong thing, never going to have bad breath... You did all of this for him. I'm just… me. How am I supposed to compete with that?" Emma cupped Regina's cheek in her hand and touched her forehead to Regina's. "He was everything to you. And given the fact that he died for you, I'm pretty sure you were everything to him. And I just…" She sighed, unable to continue.

Emma was jealous. _Of what, dear god, of what?_ What was there in her that deserved or warranted that? "Oh Emma… Daniel was everything to me. When I was worthy. But you are… more." She shrugged because she did not speak of feelings and it was really bad timing to start now, with no practice to fall back into- when she had everything to lose now. She sucked in air. "The hope that you have given me… nothing else, Emma... no one else. Not even Daniel...She shrugged because she did not rea Because the bigger the despair, the more difficult the hope." She swallowed through the lump in her throat. "I'm all used up Emma. I'm sorry. I wish I could be bright and new for you. After the life you've had because of me, you deserve something better. Something new, without defects, without baggage and compromise and all of this. I'm sorry."

"Regina, you're not some hand me down shoes."

"I know."

"No, you don't. I'm sorry I made you feel like that. You're not the only one with issues, alright? I just… god, I'm an idiot, alright? I feel this here," Emma rubbed at her chest almost violently, "and I don't really know how. I mean, I don't know what to do with it or how I got it, you know, I just … I got this here and I wish you had it too because I don't know how to get rid of it. But you had him and you did all of this because of him and no one ever did anything for me and I can't help it but to wish that you'd curse a world or two because of me. Just so that I'd know how it feels to be loved like that. But of course you won't. It's just that it's here…" Emma rubbed at the burn in her stomach, her throat, her chest. She should buy some shares in Tums, make it work for her. "And I wished you would have it too so that I could ask you what to do with it…"

"Emma…" The bars were burning into Regina's hands and cheeks but it hardly registered, it was nothing compared to the dull throbbing in her heart, a mixture of pain and relief that Emma was not yet trying to pull away from her, that Emma was confessing to something so… something she too did not have words for and she couldn't help it but to want this, to want it so, so badly that her body pressed even more into Emma's though there were bars between them.

To Emma it sounded like the beginning of an admission of incapability. "Don't worry Regina." And it was vital that Regina did not say the words, that she did not take from her this hope. "I don't need you to feel the same. He was your true love. And, man, I can't believe I keep on saying _that_ out loud. I can feel it enough for both of us, alright? I am not embarrassed. Only rarely is it painful."

"Emma, I would if I could." Emma looked at her as if she could not understand the words. "If I could still curse worlds I would do it if you asked it of me." Diffidence coloured Regina's smile .

"You would?" Emma's smile was slowly brilliant, radiant and, like a magnet, it pulled at Regina's smile, making it more defined, surer.

"To somewhere horrible. Absolutely horrible"

_Screw _it, Emma thought. If you cannot bury your skeletons somewhere safe, the least you can is to make them dance. "Say that with an evil cackle and I'll bring you the most decadent breakfast I can think of tomorrow."

Regina didn't so much as look around to ensure privacy. She simply let it rip, an evil cackle that echoed through the cave. "To somewhere horrible. Absolutely horrible."


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Henry peddled his bike as fast as he could, which was not nearly enough for what he needed. It was not like he was afraid or was even a mediocre biker, but when your mother is Regina Mills, you wear your helmet, you knee braces and the elbow braces and go slow because "people are maniacs" and you never know when one of them might be under the influence of some vile substance that diminishes their danger assessment capabilities.

Today, though, he peddled without so much as the helmet and it was great to feel the wind blow his hair back and the sense of purpose in his heart. He hit the brakes and the bike went into a dusty spin on the dirt ground that was not entirely his design but because he managed not to scream, it might actually look good for anyone looking for from afar.

He stashed the bike into the undergrowth. The three guards for the night stood outside smoking and not really paying the cave any apparent mind which did not surprise him anyway. It wasn't like his mom could really go anywhere anyway locked behind magic bars that burned into her skin at the merest contact. He crouched and moved gently through the thicket and stopped only when he was safely tucked inside the cave without them so much as noticing. If he could do this, anyone could come in and hurt his mom. He didn't think the guards would be particularly bothered and his heart thumped louder in his chest.

The coarse sand under his feet crunched under the soles of his trainers but nothing moved but shadows. As he rounded the last of curves down the long winding path to where his mom was kept, Henry heard the Evil Queen: "To somewhere horrible. Absolutely horrible." He heard her cackle - there was no other word for it. He stood rooted to the floor, the straps of his backpack clutched like a life buoy in his cold fingers. Then he heard Emma laugh, an honest to goodness laugh which was a strange sound from her because she smiled but she did not laugh, as if she had misplaced the ability to do it. It was a beautiful sound. And his mother had brought it out.

He leaned against the cold rock wall and inched his head forward so that he could see them as well. And then he just stood there, not really intruding on their moment but wanting to be a part of it anyway.

"I'll miss you." Emma inched the words forward towards Regina as she pushed a lock of hair behind Regina's ear, taking a little extra time on its shell. It brought out a faint smile on Regina, an echo of the wide smile of only seconds ago. It was sad and tired but it was a smile.

"I'll miss you too." And her head slid into Emma's palm. They said _I'll miss you_ but Henry thought that those little words were as good as _I love you._ And he was okay with it. More than ok. Happy.

"Bring me strawberry cheesecake for breakfast."

"Strawberry cheesecake?" He liked the way that love thing looked on both of them, the hard angles and edges softened, smiles, soft words.

"You said decadent."

"It's a desert. Are you feeling ok?"

"Better than ever. I have a yearning for strawberry cheesecake, though. And it has fruit in it."

"So it does. But no apples."

"I don't like clichés."

"I need to go, now."

Regina only nodded, the smile fading by increments. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll be in early." Henry identified Emma's physical effort of pulling herself away from the bars, leaving Regina there. It was as if she was leaving a part of her behind. She dragged her feet on her way out, her usual quick gait subdued. Emma was tired. She was doing a stellar job of the trial and of keeping his Mom going and balancing everything with Snow and James and she was doing it on her own. It was showing in the dark circles under her eyes, in the way that even her hair looked tired.

Henry followed her almost to the mouth of the cave before she noticed the movement. He could see it in her stance, the sudden terror and the aggression and the fight. And then it's all gone when she realized it was him. And then it was there again. "Kid!" It's not really a plea or an admonition or anything but a mixture of it all.

"Don't worry, Memma, I'll stay with her."

Henry could see it then, see how overwhelmed she really was. Emma pulled him into a fierce hug. "I was going to leave her there and anything… anything could_" And the she stopped herself because he's a boy of eleven only and she had to consider the weight of her words and of her choices.

"I'll take care of her tonight, Memma. You go." Henry tasted the word, worked around it and decided that he liked it. He liked it a lot.

"Anyone could have…"

"No one will. I'm here. No one will do anything while I'm here. Cause, they don't want to scar a kid, you know?"

No, Emma's smiles never lasted long. He wished they did.

"Memma?"  
"My Emma. Memma." And the laughter from his dream echoed in his ears.

"I like it."

"Me too. Go. I'll protect her now."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The guards did snap to attention when Emma walked past them, stood straighter, taller, more imposing. And for all their Quarterback posturing, they cowered a little under the scowl she gave them. Henry did not hear her words but whatever they were, they quickly made their way to the entrance of the cave. Memma was a badass. He smiled to himself just watching her walk all the way to town with those long strides of hers.

He liked it. He liked it very much. At that, he adjusted his backpack and made his way towards the cave, silently down the corridors, a smile still dancing in his eyes. Emma was in charge. His mom was going to be okay.

Or not.

The Blue Fairy was standing in the cave, facing off with his mother, the scowl on her face so angry it made her remarkably ugly. And frightening. His steps slowed and the words became clearer, more distinct.

"Evil is not a disease. It cannot be cured." His mom stood against the bars. He had seen that stance, he had seen it when he had accused her of being the Evil Queen but had not recognized it then, maybe because he was too young. Or probably because he was too selfish: hurt. "You are tainting her with your sins. The savior is light and hope and you will destroy all she stands for. If you have changed, really and truly, leave her be. Let her be the best she can be. Give Emma her best chance." Regina was still standing because she had a backbone, that was all.

"Mom" Henry called from the entrance and when he got her attention, when his voice interrupted the eye contact between his mom and the fairy, he ran to the bars and hugged Regina, his skinny arms going easily through the bars and encircling her waist. "Don't listen" he whispered to her softly. "Don't listen."

"Will you taint your son as well?" Henry felt Regina recoil as if she had been stabbed or shot in the chest. He held on, he refused to let her go.

"Leave her alone. Go away!"

"You love him. You love him dearly. I can see that. Anyone can. But already he cannot see those who come to his defense. Already he is tainted by you, by your defective kind of love. Just like your mother's. Do you really think you can love him well? Do you really think such a perfect child should be here to see what is to become of you, dear?"

Henry's arms slid from his mother's waist and tensed by his sides, his hands balled into fists, small but mighty. "Enough" He said without looking at the fairy. His words echoed through the cave.

"Everything you touch withers. Surely you love them enough to see that." Regina's hands slid off his shoulder as if she had lost all strength to hold on and it was that, that minute movement more than anything that had Henry moving. He launched himself at the fairy and the suddenness of the movement, of the impact had her against the wall in two of Henry's steps. "You have a heart, dear child. I know you do. I never doubted as much. So I beseech you: do what is best for those you love."

"Shut up. Just shut up." And he pushed at her, his hands against her blue habit, pushing at her until, the fairy had the wherewithal to push back, to push from the rock wall and press Henry against the bars.

There was a low hiss that echoed through the cave and whispered through its walls. Regina moved against the bars, to where Henry was pressed against the metal that burned her and pushed at the fairy, willing her magic, any magic, anything at all, to come out of her. Or for the fairy to get closer, just enough so she could gouge her eyes out. "LET GO OF MY SON!"

The fairy released Henry. She was panting and wisps of hair had escaped the subdued bun at her nape.

"Was your father's death not lesson enough?" For such softly whispered words, the effect was absolutely annihilating. And with those words she walked out.

When Henry turned to his mother, the look in her eyes was wild and she was the Evil Queen of his book.

"Mom?" There was a confusing moment of worry and triumph all wrapped in the Evil Queen's eyes: she was back- and there was horror in that thought. She was back- and there was hope in it, too, because he longed for the mother with spark and vitality and this version of her, the meek, subdued and beaten to dust by life version was scarier than the cartoonish evil being that lived in his book and in his nightmares. "Mom?" His hand went to her cheek and cupped it gently. "She's a moron. Don't you listen to her."

"No name calling, Henry." The Evil Queen was gone as if she'd never been. Was he happy or disappointed?

"She deserves it."

"Indeed. But name calling denotes lack of imagination. Do you mind if I sit?"

"Are you tired?"

"A little." She slid to the floor, legs crossed Buda like by the bars, hands on her bent knees, rubbing discretely in her pants.

Henry grabbed the back pack he had abandoned by the entrance the cave when he had heard the voice of the fairy and rummaged through it until it produced his lunchbox, a carton of apple juice, a thermos of coffee and a tube of burn cream. "How about _ingrown toe nail_?" He opened the thermos and served her a cup, sweetened just the way she liked. It had turned out weaker than was probably decent, but looking at the way her hands were shaking still, this was probably for the best.

"It is still name calling but at least it is more imaginative."

Her wan smile flickered and faded at the smell of coffee and her hand flew to cover her mouth. Henry quickly tipped the cup's contents back into the thermos and covered it. "Are you sick, mom?"

"No, Henry."

"You look like you're going to be sick."

"It's just the smell of coffee. Just some stomach bug." Henry handed her the turkey on rye sandwich and the carton of apple juice.

"I should have brought saltines and ginger ale. You always give me saltines and ginger ale when I'm not feeling well."

"The sandwich is lovely, Henry. Did you make it yourself?" Henry nodded, eager. He should have brought the saltines and the ginger ale. "I toasted the bread too."

"You should not be using electrical appliances on your own."  
"Mom! I'm nearly eleven and I'm not stupid."

Regina lowered the sandwich she was trying working up the courage to eat and looked at her son in the eye. "I'm sorry Henry. I know that."  
"But you worry just the same."  
"I do. I worry about you all the time."  
"Well," Henry put down his sandwich too. He was not hungry anyway; his stomach was still a tight knot of nerves. "Tonight you don't have to." He reached for and opened the tube of the burn cream. He held his hand out to his mother and when she took it, he pulled the delicate hand to him and coaxed her finger open. The palms looked scalded, sore. It was not as bad as her neck but he had to work his courage for that. He squeezed a little cream and worked it into her skin, gently. Regina's forehead leaned against the bars and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. Henry took the left hand and applied the cream again, massaging it carefully as if the whole world at that moment existed in that small expanse of skin. "She's wrong, you know?" The answer was a single tear furtively sliding down Regina's chin. "And when I tell Emma what the Blue Fairy said, Emma will beat the crap out of her."

"Henry, please don't. For Emma, please don't." His mother was holding on to his hand in such urgency he could not ignore the plea.

"On one condition. Look at me. Look at me mom!" When Regina did, he continued. "This best chance thing, it stinks. It stank when gramps shoved Emma into that wardrobe, it stank when Emma gave me away, and it will suck lemons if you do it to me. Take your sweater off, please." When Regina was only in a chemise, Henry dabbed the cream on the skin covered in blisters. It amazed him that she had complied so readily. "So don't you dare listen to her. That's my condition. Don't you dare go giving Emma and I our best chance."

"Because it sucks lemons?"

"Well, the expression I want to use is more grown up, but I guess I'm too young for it."  
"I guess you are." Regina smiled a rainbow smile, somewhere between the tears and a sunny smile, small, but genuine.

"Promise, mom."

"Henry_"

"No mom, you have to promise. This best chance thing is nothing but bad news."

Regina stared at her son, startled by the earnestness in his expression as if he could see straight into her, into how she was faltering and doubting. As if he could read that for once she could do what was right. It would be so selfish not to, not to release Emma and Henry.

"I promise."

But this promise was one that she might have to break.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Henry's soft breath was peace. The day Henry had been placed in her arms, she had spent hours listening to his breathing, studying the rise and fall of his chest, the flutter of his eyelids and it brought her peace of mind and heart. On her worst days, she would sit by his crib and then his cot and later his bed and place her hand on his chest, just to feel his heart beat under her palm. Henry was her peace. This was not the Henry of before, the child. This Henry was growing to be a man. And still he slept in peace. Not even the mattress Charming had brought him the night before fettered his sleep. He was smiling as if he was dreaming of happy places.

Henry had been a gift since the very first minute in her arms, stilling her heart, her thoughts, a balm on her battle wounds. She concentrated on his strong heartbeat and willed herself to let that peace come to her again.

"_Once upon a time there was a queen. The queen was tired – of how it felt to be her, of clutching hate to her heart because it was the only thing that tethered her to earth. She'd had this feeling for many years that if she stopped hating, if she allowed herself to feel anything but hate, she would just bounce off the earth and go far, far away where no one would even see her because there was nothing and no one to keep her. The queen was the most tired woman in the world."_

_I hope there will come a time when I won't be afraid of losing the ones I love. I hope there will be a time when I can take someone for granted. One moment only where I will know that we have our whole lives ahead of us, together. No thorny decisions. A moment to quit the struggle, to let go, to relax into the world, into loving arms. To stop resisting life. To be free. _

_When the Genie gave me that mirror so long ago, I only saw myself in it. There was no one in it with me. I found my mirror now. I found someone like me, the right with my left, the concave with my convex. My defenses have been decimated, my last stand has fallen. I stand revealed in my miserable attire waiting for the moment when disgust will cross her features, for the inevitable moment she will hurt me. And yet, she is Emma. It seems that nothing is really worth it unless I try. I was not alive before, a ghost in my own life. She makes life real for me. The pain, yes, but the hope and the love too. Twenty-nine years of nothing is enough. Life contracts and expands to the measure of your courage. _

_I am no longer ruler of my universe._

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

There were two times in Emma's life. The Time Before Storybrooke and Time After Storybrooke. If this had been Time Before Storybrooke, Emma would have bee-lined to Granny's and taken care of business. This was Time After Storybrooke time. So she walked to Mary Margaret's because she had a mother to check up on.

She took the steps to the apartment two at a time and slid the key home and turned it with slow hands because she did not know how to deal with what was on the other side.

Snow sat by the window, lost in contemplation of the twilight.

"Hey!" Emma aimed for breezy, but what came out was flat and gruff.

"Snow."

"Sorry?"  
"Call me by my name. Please. I can imagine it is weird, having a fairy tale character for a mother. Please call me Snow. You can pretend it is a normal name if you want. Like Mary or Paula or something in a foreign language. But please call me by my name."

"What's going on?" Emma pocketed the keys and stuffed her hands in her pockets for lack of options on what to do with them.

Snow turned from the window and clutched at her mug of tea with both hands. Probably for the same reason. "I… nothing."

"Okay." Emma wished it had been Time Before Storybrooke because then she would just march up to her room, change and go out and run all her errands which were many for such little time. But this was Time After Storybrooke. She sighed and approached her mother. "Snow?"

"Twilight is a strange time, isn't it? Not really night, not really day. Do you think there are twilight people? People who are a mixture of darkness and light, good and bad?"

Emma's hands tried to dive further down in her pockets and her chin dipped into her chest. "I think that's all of us. People are neither good nor bad. It's more that they are bad sometimes and good other times…" Emma fidgeted, balancing between her right and her left feet.

"Call me Snow. It's like I have a little of what was lost. I wished you'd call me Momma or Mom. I can live with Snow." She turned to Emma then.

Even if this had been Time Before Storybrooke it would not have helped her. Emma had always been helpless against tears, incapable of dealing with them. She walked to Snow and stood before her, hands firmly wedged into her pockets where it was safe. She did not want to get carried away with promises just so Snow would stop her crying because this was Time After Storybrooke and those promises carried with them an obligation to follow through. Not like before. "I've been alone all my life and_" And it was totally the wrong way to start because Snow's eyes flooded again and she sniffled delicately. Emma made a mental note of the gesture just in case there would ever be a time she'd cry. That was the way to do it and still look human. She took another step forward but her hands still would not come out of her pockets. "Look… What I mean is that this takes some getting used to. I never had anyone to call Mom or Momma, you know, and I'm trying to get used to all of it. Twenty nine years is a long time to be used to something and then just fall into step with something new. That I never expected before."

"I know, Emma. I know. And I'm trying to give you space and time and… and… but… you seem to be doing okay with her. You hold her hands and you hold her up and I see it Emma, I see the way you look at her. And you seem to be doing okay with that. I'm being ridiculous, I know. It's not the same thing but, God, Emma, she brought us all here. I know you don't think it's her fault that you grew up alone, but it is, it is and you love her and you forgave her that but it seems that she is consuming all of you and there is nothing left for me. For us, your father and me, and…"

_Well shit_. Emma managed to pull her hands out of her pockets but was still unsure what to do with them. This whole affection thing had never worked really well for her. Just look at the one time she'd ben affectionate with anyone- she'd ended up tried and convicted and giving birth in jail. Tentatively, she reached out for Snow. "I didn't realize that I was not calling you by your name."

"You called me mom in court. For everyone else to hear. But you never said it to me. Just to me. I wanted a little of that just for me, to be a private thing, just ours."

And this was why she did not do tears, why she was such a sucker when the waterworks started: now she had a knot in deep in her throat and it felt like she could not breathe and it was like she owed these people and… "Mom."

Snow sobbed. It was a high pitched sound and it echoed through the apartment. She reached her hand for Emma but made no move to touch her. Emma knew this was a bad idea, a bad precedent, but there was that knot in her throat and she didn't know what to do with her hands so she did what normal people did: she slid into Snow's arms and let herself be hugged. And then she closed her arms around Snow and actually hugged back. And by the time she caught her reflection in the mirror it was too late- her face was scrunched up in unflattering lines and her nose was red and running. Damn this. Snow rubbed at her back softly, small up and down strokes and her muscles and her heart relaxed.

It hurt like a bitch. But it felt stupidly good for something she had dreaded so intensely.

.

.

James looked on from the top of the stairs. What had promised to be train wreck of a conversation – he had warned and warned Snow to pace herself, to be patient with Emma, to give her time and space- had turned out to be a feeling fest. He wanted to run down and join it before Emma got her wits about her and put a stopper to it, but he wanted to give Snow one more moment to enjoy before she had to share. And then he slid down the stairs, mindful of any sound that might break the moment and opened his arm to fit his wife and his daughter into himself.

He never had the time to give this moment a thought after he deposited Emma's helpless little form in the wardrobe, but if he had, this would not have been the way. Things were different back home. People felt differently and acted differently. But such as it was, this was okay. It was more than he'd though they would get in such a little time.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma walked with long confident strides despite the red nose and the red eyes and the pounding heart that Snow and James' affections had left in their wake. Snow had insisted she wanted to go with Emma, that she wanted to help her, even if not Regina. It was hard to fault the reasoning. But, she supposed, it seemed they were on the same side and that was a good – if strange- feeling.

When Emma pushed through the door at the diner, she was hit by the unusual silence, the curious stares and a general anxiety in the air.

They made their way to the counter and sat in a neat row, Emma between Snow and James, and it had the curious non-effect of not ruffling her feathers. Granny came from the back and placed a plate of peanut butter cookies in front of them. "Just baked them. Baking is my happy place."

"Thank you for your help, Granny."

"Don't mention it. And I mean that. I don't really want to think back to today." Granny picked a cookie and nibbled at it. "Now, don't you look nice together like this."

Snow beamed at the woman. "She really does have my chin."

"Yeah… and the stubborn streak too. What can I do for you?"

This was it, crunch time, Emma thought - and odds were, she was going to ruin it. "I was wondering… I mean…"

"Well, spit it out, Sheriff. You know you can run a tab here."

"Granny, it's complicated…"  
"If you're propositioning me, make it to the point. I am aging as we speak." She touched Emma's hand. Easy affection would never stop surprising Emma and she regarded that pudgy, working hand with interest.

"I don't deserve you, Granny."

"Nonsense! Now spit it out."

"Was there any reason you didn't testify for the Prosecution?"

"Was there any reason you did?" Emma swallowed thick. "I don't like him. I don't think he has the moral high ground to prosecute anyone. Even _her._ I don't think there is anyone here that is blameless. We all have something we are trying to hide. Or hide from as the case may be."

"Yeah…"

"Granny," Snow interrupted, "what I think Emma is going to ask is if you would speak for the defense."

"Now, that might be a tall order. Are you okay with this, Snow? I mean, I know you spared her once and lived to regret it. But you did have her on the execution dock."

"I know. I know, Granny, but my daughter… Emma, she has this faith in her. Like I had that day. Do you remember that day? I still want her punished, but… I don't know, I want someone to speak for her, to tell me that she is not that bad. That killing her is not the only option."

"Did you ever consider that?" Emma's eyes bulged out of her face, horror stricken.

"It's different back home, Emma."

"Yeah, but this is your home now, isn't it?"

"Sometimes it does not feel like it."

"Snow… Would you kill someone? Even if that someone is Regina?"

"They have death penalty in this land too, Emma."

"Are you prepared to do it yourself? Do you think that that is what good people do?"

"I think some crimes are so heinous that death is all that those who committed them deserve."

"Even after all you've heard? Don't you have enough compassion to believe that if her life had been different this would not have happened?" And she emphasized the _this_ with a wide encompassing gesture. "Don't you believe that for all that was done to her, for all that made her this way, she should have a chance at changing, at living that change?"

"It's complicated, Emma. The way I feel about Regina is complicated."  
"Is that the word of the day?"

"No. It's the truth. I want to do this for you. Not for her. That complicates things."

"So that I can love you? Are you trying to buy me off?"

"No. I just know that we can't make you happy on our own. I know that you're not that little baby anymore, that your whole life's happiness is not wrapped up in me and I am trying to atone for my choice then. Your father wanted to keep you with us. He said that at least we would be together. But I couldn't stomach the thought that she'd win… I remember what you said Emma. I know you resent my choice. I am trying to make it up to you."  
"Then let her try, too. For her. For what she was to you then and not just for me."

Snow was silent for a long time, mulling her thoughts, chewing them, unable to swallow them. What of that baby? Was that even real or just her losing her ever loving mind?

"Emma", Granny interrupted, shaking cookie crumbs from her blouse, "There are things to be said. There are things that do not damn her. But none of them excuse her, you need to understand. Being here, well, for Ruby it was a reprieve. I cannot thank her enough for that. But I'm not sure up to what point that was her own design and kindness or an accident. But I can be thankful for that anyway. You can have that. Not for you. Not for Snow or against Snow, but for my own conscience. We learn a lot, and pick our lessons where we can. I would be pissed out of my mind if my Ruby was executed for being who she is when she is like that through no fault of her own. The way I see it, Snow, it is similar. You were there. You saw what was left of poor Peter. And what we did then, you and I. I will go and speak, Emma, but only on those terms. And I would prefer if you were not pissy with me afterwards, Snow."

"Pissy about what, Granny?" Red sidled up to Snow and hugged her with the familiarity of their days on the run from the Queen.

"Talking for the defense."  
"Oh… that." She squeezed Snow's shoulder. "Are you okay with that?"

"I wish people would stop asking me that."

"Well, depends if you're going to speak to anyone else, because people don't want to upset you. You're like… the queen and we love you, you know that, right?"

"Would you do it if I said it kills me, that it crushes something inside," Snow rubbed at her chest. "Here?"

"Probably not. Though it would break my heart."  
"Because it is Emma asking?"

"No. Because I had it good here and most of the Prosecutor's argument is how bad it is here and how screwed over we all were and I don't buy into that. And because we're the good ones."

"Does that mean that we need to let her off the hook? That we should forgive and forget? I can't. I just…"

"I'm not saying that you should. But that we owe it to ourselves to act as good people if that is what we are supposed to be. And good people tell the truth. And my truth is that I was okay here. I've been dreaming of Peter again. Remembering, dreaming… I can't get it out of my mind. I did that, Snow. Here I forgot about it. She did me a favor. More than one if you think about it. No wolf. No memories. I was who I wanted to be without that burden. I'm thankful for that."

"I missed all of Emma growing up. And it hurts, Ruby."

"It does now. But it didn't all this time. She could have made sure you knew and could do nothing about it. That rodent Jefferson, he knew. He knew it every day what he had lost."  
"But it hurts _now_."

"Snow, I love you like a sister, I do. But you are at your most _princessy_ today: spoiled and petulant." Red hugged Snow tight, gentling away part of the sting. "You've always been loved, Snow. I'm pretty sure that was not the case with her. She has it now. Let her prove to you that it can make a difference."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Dr Whale walked into the diner and immediately turned to walk away the moment he spotted the pow-wow going on at the counter. The air felt heavy and he did not do anything but light and breezy as a matter of habit, but Red waltzed to him and draped her arm over his and he would forever be a sucker for that midriff - not to mention the legs that went for miles and well, all of Ruby was a good looking piece of trouble. "Dr Whale." Oh, hell, that inviting smile. It was so unfair of her to use it as a weapon. "We were wondering what you think of Storybrooke."  
"In what context?"

"Do you like it here?"  
"Again I ask, Ruby, in what context? Because I have a feeling your charm offensive has ulterior motives. Other than the outrageous flirt you are."

"Maybe… But you've been so serious as of late and… well…"

"Why do you want to know? To the point, please Ruby. I'm easy to manipulate, especially if I am willing, but play nice, please."

"You and me, we're a lot alike, aren't we?"

"Well, you're prettier." That got him the sunniest of smiles from Ruby.

"Thanks."

She was actually fidgeting, Emma noticed.

"Ruby" Granny chided, but her heart was not in it.

"Okay, to the point then, Dr Whale. I feel that I lucked out with the curse. So much crap that I am happy to have left back there that I don't have to carry around here…. How about you?"

"One of these days, Miss Lucas," Whale began after a silent moment, "we're going to have to talk about a couple things."

"Don't tell me that you're going to start taking me serious, now?"

"Would it be so bad?"

"Dunno…."  
"In answer to your question, Ruby, I find that I would much prefer to be under that curse still. I am not fond overly fond of my memories. I'd rather be a fake than my real me."

"Well, that's honest."  
"Well, that's because I'm inebriated. And I had come in here in the hopes of improving on that condition by becoming drunk. But please, tell me, what is it exactly that you want from me? Because as you know, I am not very charitably inclined. Design fault, you see?"

Ruby took a bottle from the back under the counter, two glasses and sat at a booth with Whale. "If there came a time to explain that you did not resent the curse, would you do it?"

"I presume you mean in a public setting?" Ruby nodded. "Then you must mean the trial. Ruby, I really like you. I've liked you from afar from a long time, and I find that I really would like to like you from a closer point of view. But I cannot speak at the trial. I have sins of my own that I would rather not be revealed… lest I find myself on trial too."

"Yep. We do have more in common that you think, Dr Whale. And I am not offering myself in exchange for that. But I do appreciate a little courage that does not come from a bottle and reeking of whiskey. Will you at least think about it?"

"Will you hold my hand through it?"

"Unlikely. I'd be admiring from afar."

"You're very strict, Miss Lucas. Not as easy going as I'd expect."

"Surprise!"

"Indeed."

"I'll be cheering from the stands."

"I'll think about it."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma stuffed a peanut butter cookie in her mouth and worked through it, giving Ruby and Whale some thought. "I was not expecting that."

"What part of it?" Snow aimed for quip but it fell just a little flat.

"Any?"

"The Whale part surprised me. What on earth do they have in common?" Snow mired Ruby and surrendered to the call of the cookies.

"I'm not sure what Whale's story is," Emma grabbed another cookie and played with it, "but I guess that you don't need much in common, just that one thing that makes the other person the one that understands, without words, the deep of you. The dark or broken or ugly that you do not show others."

"Soul mates?"  
"I guess."

"Like you and Regina?"

It did not come across as an attack, Emma told herself. It was just a question. A bit… rough around the edges, but just a question. "Yeah."

"Emma…."

"Mom…" Emma added an eye roll to lighten it up.

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay, l still need to remain impartial, so I cannot be seen here, but okay. I'm okay with this. With Granny, Ruby and Whale and whoever else feels they are better off here going in there and saying it. Not that I should ever not be okay. Everyone should say what's on their mind. But… you know. I am okay. And I'll try to be okay with all of it."

"Snow, until now… I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but, until now, there were these times when you helped her. When you said just the right thing at the right time. I don't get it. Why are you so… it's like a crab, you know, one step forward, two back…"

And wasn't that the rub, this thing she had for Regina, that had never really died down nor been enough to save them both. Snow closed her eyes and thought of Emma's hand on Regina's pregnant belly and the world swayed under her feet.

"Well, I don't like it." Granny groused, breaking the moment. "Look at him, all over my baby. His… his… lecherous eyes all over her. And his hands…."  
"Granny," Snow intervened, clearing her throat, thankful for the reprieve. "He is staring at his cup. The same one his two hands are holding tight. That is not seduction or lecherous or anything."

James sighed reminding everyone of his presence. "Snow, for all the blond hair on Emma's head, please do not go there. I'm cool, but I'm not made of stone."

"Huh, just you wait until you see someone's paws all over your little girl."

Snow stood, buttoned her coat and stuffed her hands deep in her pockets. "I already did, Granny. And Emma? You understand what Ruby has to lose by testifying?" At that she walked out with James, the bell over the door ringing merrily on their retreating forms. "And for the last time, _Charming_¸ we were cursed!"

"I'm not a little girl." Emma sulked when the door closed behind her parents.

"The pout is a cute look on you, Princess, but just you wait until you have your own little girl to understand that they can be 70 years old and have no teeth left and you will still look at her and think _that's my baby_. You'll do anything to protect her from… from Casanovas and Don Juans." Granny spat the names.

"I'd like a little girl."

"Huh. Trouble. Girls- little or big- are nothing but trouble."

Emma patted Granny's hand. "Ruby can take care of herself, Granny. I mean, if anyone can, that's Ruby."

"Just you make sure that her secret remains a secret, Emma. My Ruby already has her lot in life to carry. She does not need another."

"Promise, Granny."

"Good. Because I can still rip you to pieces if something happens to her, you know?"

"Never doubted it for a second."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The corridor was long and dark and wound around and around, a never ending succession of doors. Different doors all of them- old and new, small and big, red, blue, dark green that made her nails itch, a foreboding shiny black that reminded her of Leopold's state coffin. There were white doors like Snow's room and rustic wooden doors so much like the stables stalls she could all but smell the hay and horse sweat.

There were doors that radiated a coldness that approximated her mother's touch and warm doors that felt like Daniel's. And there were doors that were light and tempting. Like Emma. Soft doors that wafted Henry's soft baby scent. She walked past every single door because there was a corridor and she just _had_ to walk it because to remain where she was hurt too much.

As she walked, her clothes brightened, losing the ink blackness and her hair shortened from long, long hair, up, up, up her back, weighing less and less as she walked. She felt lighter, more capable, more Regina with each door she passed, with each shade of black her clothes lost, with each inch her hair shortened.

A little wisp of gold shattered the darkness of the corridor. It was like a match in the utter darkness, warm and happy and bright. Just a wisp of gold. It moved and danced ahead of her like a firefly in a garden.

Regina followed, unencumbered now by the hair and the blackness of her garments, barefoot. The more she walked, the more the ground smoothed and warmed.

The wisp of gold became a swarm of fireflies. She'd heard of Firefly Hill back then, but no one had ever taken her there. It was a place for lovers, a place that made your wishes come true if you wished hard enough. She followed the fireflies. Even if none of her wishes ever came true.

There was no hill when the fireflies stopped. It was hair. Bright golden hair that reflected a light she could not see, a halo of hair on a small head. Regina stopped. She wanted to reach out and touch it, to feel the warmth that came from it but her hand would not move from her side, tired, tired of all the things she had reached out for just to be left holding on to thin air.

The fireflies stopped ahead of her and giggled. The fireflies giggled. And then turned around and flitted to her, a happy movement of wisps of gold, fast, faster around her. Her head spun with the blur of movement and Regina slid to the floor that only then she could see, dark like the body of a piano. The movement stopped then.

"Are you tired? Do you want to play tea party? Here, let's play." The voice was inside her head. It sounded like any other little girl of five, quick bursts of sound, alive, joyous, fast. How strange that she had not seen the tea set, a play thing, in thick china with garish butterflies stickered onto each piece. Regina did not like tea parties or tea in general. She'd had enough of decorating tea parties, the perfect child, always seen but never heard; of being showcased in them, always failing to be suitable, desirable no matter how much she tried. But she reached out for the cup anyway because that was a hardwire problem and she could not refuse. "I like playing tea parties. I think we're going to have a nice one today."

Regina had never played tea parties but she supposed she should pretend to drink and pretend to talk and pretend to be perfect. "I'm sure we will." And then she brought the tea cup to her lips and would forever be surprised that there was tea in it, warm and fragrant and that it soothed her stomach.

"Nice, huh?" Regina looked up from her tea. It was Emma as Emma would have been at five. Except for the eyes. The eyes were wide brown in that face and they did not look like Emma's at all but they looked perfectly at home there.

"Emma?"

The little firefly girl smiled. "I'm so happy you came."

Regina looked around her. There was only her in the room. "No one is ever happy I came." Her throat tightened.

"I am. I'm really happy." The eyes of a deep dark brown twinkled like stars in the ink darkness of the place they were in. "Did you come to meet me?"

"I… no? I don't know? I don't know where I am."  
"Well, that does not mean that you're lost, at least."

"It doesn't?"  
"No. You're here. You just might not know where here is, that's all. Drink. Isn't it delicious?"

It truly was. She studied the child again. "You look just like Emma."

"You really think so?"

The little girl smiled wide and beautiful. A lot like Emma if ever she had been unencumbered by all that she had struggled through. Because of her. Regina lowered her eyes to the cup and took one more sip. "You know, rolling about in the dirt is not a good way to get clean." The little girl asked.

"What else is there to do? My blood on the asphalt should appease them."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Atone for what you can and rebuild from there."  
"Emma deserves better than that."  
"Emma chose you."

She sounded a lot like Emma too, but her adult version. "How old are you?" It didn't really matter, it was a dream, she was sure of it but what child spoke with such clarity?

The little girl just shrugged. Whether it didn't matter or she did not know was unclear. "Emma chose you. She will stand by you. And you know how rare that is. So why are you listening to other voices?"

"The fairy is right."

"No she's not. Henry is."

"What about?"

"About the best chance thing. Don't you think it's high time you got some gumption back and fought for a chance at being happy?"

"I've done that all my life. I'm tired of it. Besides. I've always known the end of the story. It was never about me."

The little girl stood then, looking wounded. Exactly like Emma. Then she twirled around once, twice, signing _It's raining, it's boring, the man on the moon is snoring. It's raining, it's boring..._

"Hey, wait..."

"Nuh huh." And she continued her pirouetting and her sing-song _It's raining, it's boring, the man on the moon is snoring_. Regina simply tried to keep up. She had to. The deep brown eyes twinkled like stars and all she could do was follow.

"You're very pretty." The little girl continued dancing.

"Thank you, I guess."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."  
"Sometimes it was."

The little girl stilled her dance. Regina missed it immediately, but the tiny hand cupped Regina's face. Regina thought for a moment she was back in the cell with Emma touching her. "Some people like to pick all the flowers just because they are pretty, no matter if they wither and die in their vases. It always happens to pretty flowers."

The firefly was a child. How could she reply to a child about something like that? She didn't. She leaned into the touch of the diminutive hand.

"What do I do?"

"What you've always done. You fight." Then she shrugged her shoulders. "Only this time, you fight for love instead of revenge. And you'll have Emma with you. And Henry. See the difference?"

Regina touched her short hair and studied her clothes faded out from the black she used to favor. "Yes."

"Well, then..."

"Will I see you again, Little Emma?"

"I'm not Emma. I'm Hope. Pleasure to meet you." And she stretched her hand out to Regina. It was a dream and she was going to wake up. She was never going to get to touch that hand because that was what her life was all about, all the good things just out of reach. But she reached out her hand anyway and, to her immense surprise her hand touched the tiny little hand.

"Hope." It was solid in hers, solid in a way a dream had rarely been for her, no matter how many times she had dreamt of Daniel and of her father. "Hope." The little girl nodded vigorously, wild wisps of gold streaking the darkness. "It's my pleasure." And the smile beamed. Like a sun, dazzling.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina walked into the courtroom in a happy daze, strawberry cheesecake and sunny smile and Emma's sure hand in hers, a bumpy school bus journey and what could only be described as shameless make out. Life felt, at that moment, ridiculously good.

She should have known it would not last. The Prosecutor had arranged a natural size picture of Graham and placed in on a tripod in the middle of the courtroom. Graham's eyes seemed to follow her in her progress down the room, accusing her of his death, accusing her of taking Emma for herself. She halted her steps for a fraction of a second, enough only for Emma to notice the hesitation. Emma took her hand and kissed it gently. "I know."

"No, you don't. Not about this, you don't."

"About Graham's heart? Yeah, I do. But Regina, you have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Emma… I took his heart… back then. But I killed him here. Because…"

"Because he was remembering."

"No. Because he chose you. He chose you over me and…"

"You wanted to win?" Regina simply nodded and stole another glance at Graham, right there, in the middle of her life again. Heart or not, he had been the only one that had ever touched her with any modicum of kindness. It had been so easy to simply prolong the illusion. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yeah. Why is it so important to you to win?" Regina's first instinct was to hide. In the impossibility of digging a hole on the ground and slip into it unnoticed, she let the mask of Evil Queen slip back over her. Shame it felt so uncomfortable she could barely speak.

"I don't like losing."

"Bullshit. This is me, Regina. The truth, please. So far I left all of this play out, but now I want the truth. From your mouth. I don't want to pick pieces of other people's truths and puzzle together yours. I want it from you. Graham deserves it. _I_ deserve it."

Her legs deserted her then. Regina slumped into the chair. Indeed. "That's who I am, Emma. All my life I've been only worth as much was what others wanted from me or were willing to pay for me. Graham leaving me? I was worth nothing again. That's what losing felt like: like being nothing again." A furtive tear slipped past her control and Regina swiped at it viciously.

Emma kicked herself mentally if not in fact. "Don't cry, please."

"I'm not." And she sniffed as she pushed her chin up, all defiance and challenge.

"Okay, you're not. But one day, Regina, you're going to think differently. You're going to look in the mirror and see the same thing I see."

"What?"

"You. Only you. Not the Evil Queen, not the loser. Just you. I can't wait for you to meet that girl."

.

.

**Quick Author note:** I know, I know, "_It's raining, it's boring, the man on the moon is snoring" _is not the original version. This is my daughter's version and forgive me, but I could not help myself but use hers.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Snow snuck a look from behind a nearly closed door. The room was full and there was some sort of picture on a tripod in the middle of the room, right in front of her desk, which was an aggravation even before she knew what it was, who had put it there and what for. It was, as Emma was fond of saying, _a pisser._ She rubbed at her temples with vigor, but the incipient headache refused to dissipate.

James approached her with a glass of water in his hand. "I come in peace."

"I'm not mad."  
"The stormy expression suits you but begs to differ. I know you're upset at me."  
"I'm not."  
"You are. You think that I am not on your side in this."

"We're married, Charming, not conjoined twins."

James laughed. That was his Snow, the spunky firecracker of the Enchanted Forrest. "All the more reason for you to expect for me to fall in line with you. Here, have some water." He insisted and she took the glass but did not drink. "I love you, Snow, more than any cliché can say. But Emma is my child too. I think sometimes you forget that. And I love her in any way she will let me. But it's more than that. You know it. The same way Regina tried to kill you, she saved my life- twice. I want that to be known. I want… Justice, I guess. Which is a funny thing at the best of times. Difficult to stomach. But I want for Regina the same thing I would want for me. A fair judgment, a fair trial."

"I don't know how to do that, Charming. How can I decide that on my own? What are we even doing here? I was so sure in the beginning, you know? That I could do this. That _we _could do this. We have it all: the witnesses, the defense and the prosecution, the arguments, but I'm just me. I feel what I feel and I feel like she's taking everything away from me, and no matter how much I try…"  
"There are all those things in your head, aren't there, Snow? The Regina you met as a child, the one that tried to have you killed more times than we can count; the Mayor, Henry's mom… Emma's…"

"Emma's what? Girlfriend? Lover? Love interest? You tell me, Charming, because… they've been together for what? 10 days? Emma lived with me, Charming, and I don't think they were together before the curse broke. That is not time enough. That is not time enough."  
"It's time enough, Snow, you know that. Time is never a measure for love. Certainly not for true love."

"James! You can't say that."

"Drink your water Snow. It will help."

"It's not true love. Stop saying that."

"Come here, Snow. Just come here." And he pushed the heavy door open a crack, enough for both of them to look through - Snow reluctantly, James in earnestness. "Look at them. Look at your daughter. Do you know where I know that look in her eyes from? The mirror. Snow, I've seen that in the mirror. When I saw you biting into that apple through Regina's mirror. I would have seen it in any mirror I had looked into when I was riding my horse to get to you from that glass coffin. You know what that look is? It's the look of someone who will do anything, sacrifice anything for the person they love. If that is not the measure of true love, I don't know what is."

Snow slumped against the door. Emma was talking, Regina was listening as if she did not dare hope. Regina stole one more glance at the poster sized picture and her eyes glistened with tears. It made those black eyes big, irresistible. Emma pulled Regina into her and cradled the woman in her arms, gently, so gently.

"There is no way I can do this, Charming. I hate her, I want her punished. Sometimes, I want her dead. God, she took so much from me. Us. And if I buy into this, into this Emma's True Love thing… I can't cost someone else their true love. Not again."

"Snow, we can do this. It does not have to be you alone. We can gather the council again. Or we can have everybody come in and cast a vote. Up to you. But you do not have to do this alone. The decision does not have to rest only on your shoulders, you know that, right?"

Snow nodded though her heart was not in it. The impulse, the attraction to punish Regina was far greater than anything else, than any other argument. She had spent a great deal of the night before chewing on the bone of betrayal. Regina had betrayed her. And if she was being honest, it was more than the death threats and all the attempts on her life. It was the_ knowing_, clearly, undoubtedly, that Regina had not felt the same as she had, that her choices had not been Regina's.

"Okay." She nodded to persuade herself that it was. "Okay."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The Prosecutor checked and rechecked the tub of Tums in his briefcase. It gave him a peculiar sense of safety to have it there and this time he was not taking any chances. How had the other one vanished? Had he dropped it? Had he dropped it where someone could see that he was using it, that he _needed_ it? He adjusted the bundle of papers around it once more, just to be sure and then, satisfied that the Tums were not going anywhere, crossed his arms and prepared to wait. The Queen was probably powdering her nose or throwing a hissy fit behind the curtain. _Women_… the ideas they got, that they were as good as men. And this Snow had always been peculiar… Blame her father, for sure. But, he supposed, when you do not own a dog, you end up training your cat to hunt.

He smiled at the former Sheriff's poster sized photo. For all the gravitas of the black stripe he'd had the printers frame the image with, it could well have been a wake for the dead Sheriff. It was good. It looked good. And it was having the desired effect. And Snow White could take her sweet time because the longer she took, the more time there was for the populace in the cheap seats to measure up the Evil Queen against the good sheriff. The Evil Queen was already getting what she deserved: anyone trying to rise above their station in life deserved no less than a slap on the wrist. Snow was next. By all that was sacred, Snow would be next. And her cub.

The mob was getting agitated. The waiting did not sit well. Hell, if this had not been working so well on his behalf, he'd be heading the protests. The session was supposed to start at 9.30. Punctuality was next to godliness.

When the new queen came in, she was followed by her lapdog of a husband. She spared a look at the portrait and her face twisted in a half-smile of pity so common to the liberal hippies she headed in town. Good. He studied the mob. Very, very good. They sympathized with her, so he let it play out. He could not have scripted this better.

But the little wench just took the tripod and moved it out of the center stage he designed for it and put it by her side. It was still visible but it was losing impact.

"I'm not sure who decided to start today's session without me here." And he could feel her eyes boring holes on his forehead. Good, he liked having an effect on people. The one thing he did not like was indifference. "But I hope this is not part a lifetime habit of finishing without waiting for the other party."

The Prosecutor felt the smile die on his face. Smarmy little… _woman_.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow hit the gavel and the Prosecutor stood, slowly, deliberately, adjusting his tie and sleeves. Enjoying the moment.

"So far," The Prosecutor cleared his throat, "We have heard from the victims. They were heartfelt statements, mostly because they are not from independent witnesses but from the victims themselves. The defense tried – and failed- to color those statements as biased. I dare say that they have every right to be. But today we do not need to listen to statements. Today, we do not need to make allowances for the subjectivity, for the righteous resentment. We will see with our own eyes. We will not question their motives because there are none. There is only the truth. I call Sheriff Graham to the stand."

The silence in the room was thick enough to slice with a knife. The Prosecutor considered it a success almost as much as the wild look in the Evil Queen's eyes. He had seen fear in his life. He had cultivated it, relished in it. Used it. And that was fear. He didn't even think of the Tums in his briefcase. That look was soother enough.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma's hand found hers between their chairs and squeezed. It seemed that every cliché the Charmings spouted at the drop of a hat was true- Emma found her. She always did. She had found her buried under the ruin of her life and she had found her now, in the middle of the horror and the panic that she could not get under control. Of all the things she had done, of all the things that had not sit well on her conscience- or what was left of it- the dust of Graham's heart slipping like sand from her fingers was one of those that weighed the most. Emma's hand grabbed hers, her long, slim fingers slid between hers and, palm to palm, Emma's hand closed them tight bringing her back to where she could breathe, where there was light and truth.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

There was an ominous squeak squeak squeak unhurried, towards the side door of the court room. The prosecutor stood and walked to the door in silence while the squeak squeak squeak came closer and closer to the door. The Prosecutor opened the door and a gurney covered with a white sheet was pushed into the room, a wonky front wheel squeaking squeaking squeaking into the courtroom and coming to a complete and silent stop where Graham's poster sized picture had been.

Emma had to hand it to the Prosecutor: the old fart knew how to make an impression- with drama and aplomb, he pulled the white sheet covering the gurney an revealed a glass box- scratch that- a glass coffin with a corpse inside. Graham's.

He gave the audience a moment to gasp their horror.

The audience gasped in horror and some averted their eyes, others closed them. Others covered their mouths or their faces. Some openly cried.

Snow closed her eyes and refused to look. That was the end of it. She refused to see the waste of Graham's body, of the Sheriff of her little town, of the hunter with the clear gaze that had saved her life. She simply refused.

Regina froze, eyes open wide and fixed on the glass coffin. It seemed that her life was forever connected to those instruments of torture.

Emma was simply frozen between the very vivid memories- of Graham kissing her, of her face throbbing after that go around with Regina, of the slump of his body against hers when he died- and the rage, the almighty rage at having him displayed like a butterfly pinned to a cushion. Her throat closed and her words simply would not form beyond gurgles deep in her chest.

"I have come to the disturbing realization that in these last few days we have been gathering here, people seem to have forgotten what brought us here, to this land. I understand why. A few well placed questions and the defense white washes what this evil woman has done. A few manipulative tears, a few choice words and we start feeling sorry for her. We start believing that she might have some justification for the atrocities she has committed. We start telling ourselves that it's in the past. That things were different in the past. That people change. Well, people do not change. I called Sheriff Graham here to show you- because he can no longer tell his story- that the same way she killed back home, she killed now. How long ago, Sheriff Swan? Six months? Seven? She killed a good man, an honest man that refused to carry out her edict of killing Snow White in cold blood. She took his heart in her hand and destroyed it. Destroyed him. You should remember, Sheriff Swan or Princess or however you wish to be called today. You should know because he died in your arms. See him here now. Dead. Let his rotting body tell you what this woman can do today still. What she will do to those who threaten her, to those who stand in her way. She leaves behind only rotting corpses, only destruction. Only devastation.

"She killed her own lover because he was a threat. Do you really think that you will be safe from her when you all give in to your better nature and forgive for what she has done? Do you think your children will be safe from her when they are walking down Main Street and their path crosses hers? Let Sheriff Graham speak to you the only way he can. From the grave."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

_That mother fu__ Emma stood, her legs shaking, heart pounding. Her hand was still in Regina's and for the first time she could really see what happened to a body once it had been buried: not much. There was nothing rotting, no pieces falling off, no vermin feasting on his body. Nothing much had happened. The suit was still the same Regina had picked out for him to be buried in; the hair was no longer puffy and windblown but lanky and dull. It was just the skin. It was grey and mottled darker grey and it seemed… closer to the bones, somehow. It made his permanent small smile only a memory. And that was it. Nothing more.

The dam broke then. "Are you out of your fucking mind?You disinterred a body. You do not have the authority to do it. Who did you ask? Why would you think that this is okay, to bring a corpse to a court room? I know what you want, what you think you can do with this… I… God! Do you stop at nothing? Do you respect nothing? Is it all a game to you?" She let her hand touch the glass coffin then, the tips of her fingers only. _Poor Graham_.

"No games, Miss Swan. And I do not need anyone's authority to do what I must to bring justice. Had I left Sheriff Graham where he was, there might have been justice for some- because make no mistake, Justice may take some time but it always- always- delivers- but there would be no justice for the Hunter because he was never heard in this court. And he paid the ultimate price. So he should have the ultimate reward. An eye for an eye is more that a saying, Miss Swan."

"Emma," Snow interjected from her desk. "Please cover that coffin."

"Is death making you feel ill, your Majesty?"

"Not death, no. And not Graham. But the display of his remains like this, yes. It's making me nauseous. Let's agree that you have made a point. That you have horrified us all enough and that no one will be able to forget about Graham in these proceedings. But there has to be some dignity."

"All of the Hunter's dignity was sucked out of him the moment that the Evil Queen took his heart to make him her slave and then killed him. After having him service her needs for all this time in this land. Or have we all forgotten how he was her lap dog? That took his dignity away. Not this display of what she left of him. Like a vulture, eating away at the flesh, leaving only the bones_"

"Enough!" Emma rounded on him and for a glorious moment she had no intention of stopping herself from pummeling his face with her fists until he simply stopped talking. Or breathing. "I told you once- save it for the closing arguments. Save it. I know you have enough bullshit in you to last you a thousand trials but, save it. Save it or I swear_"

"Emma!" The sound came from Regina and Snow realized that this was only the second time she heard her voice in all of this. It was a plaintive sound, soft, almost meek. But it had the effect of stopping Emma on her tracks.

"I will let that one slide by, Miss Swan, but only because I understand that being torn between your old lover and the current one must be doing unspeakable things to you."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

_Fuck!_ Snow thought. _Come after me, but leave my daughter alone!_ "Enough. Mr Spencer. King George. However you want to be called. Enough. You will refrain from making speeches at this point. You have been warned about this before. And you may be the prosecutor and you may even have the authority to exhume a body but you have done so without any witnesses, without alerting this court of your intentions."

"I think this… witness… should be dismissed?" Emma asked.

"On what grounds?" The Prosecutor bellowed."  
"On whatever legalese terms equal _general fuckery_. You keep on calling Regina evil and pointing your ugly finger at her and listing all the things she did wrong, but man, like for like, she did exactly the same things as you did during your reign and I, for one, never heard anyone calling you the Evil King. Is it because you're a man? Because that is only difference I can see between the two of you. I am done and tired of this shit. One standard for Regina and one for everybody else. How is this even fair? I move for the witness to be dismissed. And that is only a start. Put Graham back where you took him from. Whatever could be said about him and why he died, you've fucked him over by doing things your own way. If we are to stand any chance of this being even remotely a fair trial, Graham goes back and _"

Snow's heart was pounding and her fingers twitching for her bow and arrows. If George got so much as one inch closer to Emma, she was going to gouge his eyes out with her fingernails. "Sustained. Someone get this coffin out of here and_"

"I want Graham returned to where you took him from_"

"I want an autopsy of the body. I want_"

"Emma. No."

Snow, the Prosecutor and Emma were immediately silent, their eyes zeroing in on Regina, standing ramrod straight.

Snow was sure she could hear Regina and Emma's hearts beating in tandem, Emma's in anger and Regina's in… what was that? What was that expression on her face?

Emma walked to Regina and took the woman's hands in hers as if she could make her see reason trying to stop whatever Regina was going to do. _Emma knew what Regina was going to do._ Magic. That was it. Regina had found a way and she was going to annihilate them all and Emma was trying to stop it. She looked around for Blue because the fairy was still her go to holder of magic and gave her a pointed look of _get ready_ and the fairy, to her credit, nearly jumped from her seat and was behind Emma and Regina in a fraction of a second, ready to do whatever it took to stop Regina.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

To Emma it was as if time had come to a sudden stop, much a like a train - a jolt and a sudden halt. She had not felt her feet moving to Regina nor their hands coming together. She didn't know if she had spoken but the message in Regina's eyes was clear as day and it said _it's time _and _I will do this now_ and Emma wasn't even sure if she was trying to stop this or reveling in it.

She only knew that her heart was swollen, full to the brim of pride and love. "Are you sure?" And those were the only actual words Emma spoke in a conversation that had been absolutely wordless.

"Yes." It came out soft and it set time in motion again. Emma swallowed the knot in her throat.

"It's true." Regina spoke to the court and despite the almost whisper of it, the sound carried through the room, to every single person there. "It's true. I killed Graham."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The feeling of time suspended ended with those words as if they'd had power over the flow of history. Snow's mouth moved but no words came out. Not that she was sure what she was going to say or what she was thinking at all.

"So you admit it? You are finally admitting to one of your villainous acts?" The prosecutor was all in Regina's space, even with the desk between them.

Snow's gavel hit the table then and it brought the Prosecutor to attention. "You have been warned before about the character assessment and judgment, so _back off_ and have a seat. Or so help me, I will send you to the naughty step until you cool off." The Prosecutor took a step back but there was a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Now," Snow continued when she was sure the Prosecutor had moved away from Emma and Regina. She moved to the glass coffin and draped the white sheet over it. Can someone please remove the coffin from this room? Grumpy, please. Do you mind?"

Grumpy wheeled the coffin away and Snow took the portrait out of the tripod just to gain some time. This was unexpected. Shockingly unexpected. What on earth was she supposed to do now?

She pulled the witness chair next to her desk and called Regina, who walked to it as she had to the gallows in the middle of the public square of the castle so many years ago, with an air of dignity about her. The only thing that was not there was the arrogant defiance.

Snow rubbed at the makings of a migraine and cleared her throat. "The Prosecutor will remember, please, that this is not a circus. It may not be the most conventional court that ever convened, but it is not a circus and I will not tolerate aggression or any further comments about the character of the defendant. The naughty step remains and will be used if needed." Then she took in Regina's form, hands tightly clasped on her lap, a vein pounding away on her neck. There was not much difference to the 17 year old Regina she had met, the one that sat for tea under her mother's close –and ruthless- scrutiny and her father's helpless fawning. "Are you ready?" She asked in a tone that was only for Regina.

The surprised look Regina could not hold in check left a bitter taste in Snow's mouth. Then there was a flash of gratitude and, with quick swipe of her index finger at the hair that hung onto her face, the Mayor- or at least a more composed Regina- was there in front of Snow. "Yes."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Delightful. Absolutely delightful. The queen admitting to murder. Just like that. Absolutely delightful. And looking bedraggled and fragile. See? This was it. There were times she doubted herself. Times she thought that everything was going pear-shaped, but in the end it was a question of trust, that she had played good cards and that the odds were in her favor.

She could all but taste the queen's defeat from where she sat. She could smell that defeat and it was a very satisfying scent. She crossed her hands in her lap, demurely, fly on the wall, and prepared to enjoy the moment quietly.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

In a manner of speaking, Regina had always known that her life would meet a violent end. That her actions would be judged and she would be found lacking. That was, after all, all she knew about life - that no matter how much she tried, she always failed, she always lost.

She had just not expected for the judgment to come while she was still alive. The way of the Enchanted Forest was to execute first and judge after. She also had not expected the way all of this was happening: Emma, Henry… and love, an active shield, so different from the passiveness of her father.

The Prosecutor sauntered to her. A wounded predator became prey very, very fast, after all. "Why don't you tell us, then, Your Majesty," The Prosecutor performed a very mocking bow to Regina, "how you came to possess a Hunter that ran with wolves."

Regina stole one final glance at Emma and tried to covey with it how sorry she was. How none of it was the person she had wanted to be when she was growing up. "I took his heart."

"Why?"

"He defied me."

"By not killing your daughter and bringing you her heart. And then what?"

"Step-daughter. My step-daughter's heart. I kept his heart. I made it clear to him that if he disobeyed me again, I would crush that heart and he would die."

"So you got yourself an obedient little dog. But that was not enough, was it? You wanted to reduce him to little more than a slave. That's why he was brought to your chambers every night. Did you ever give him a choice? Did you ever consider his feelings?"

"Haven't you heard? I don't worry about anyone else's happiness but my own."

"That much is clear. And when you brought us over to this hellhole, you ensured that he continued to provide you with such services. You kept a man as your personal sex toy for 40 years. And when he disobeyed you, when he tried to break free from you and swap you for another, you killed him. You killed a good man. You took his heart in your hand and you crushed the life out of him. There is a certain symmetry to it, isn't there, that you had your lap dog killed and then replaced with the very one that he wanted to dump you for. Is that your idea of poetic justice? Or is it simply that your dogs must always be policing the rest of us? Is that why you choose lovers? How you control them? With your body?"

"No."

"No? What does that even mean?"

"It means _Leave Emma out of this. _Don't touch her name. Don't utter her name. Don't you dare soil her name with you dirty mouth and your dirty mind."

"Because you are the cleanest person to ever utter her name… But I digress. The question is: _Or what?_ I suppose your dog is running free after all. And she's our reigning monarch's daughter. So, in fact, that was an inspired moment of clairvoyance, to replace the Hunter with someone far more useful, more untouchable. Killing two birds with one stone. Will you have me killed too?"

"Never mind her. You talk about my daughter like that again and I will kill you myself. I won't send anyone after you." James stood from his seat and spoke directly to the Prosecutor. "Just so we're clear."

"I'd say we're quite clear. The law has become a family business in Storybrooke. Or lack thereof."

"As opposed to the one man band it was in your kingdom?" Snow enquired softly. "None of us here has forgotten your rule, King George. Give the rhetoric a rest. Do you have any further questions for the defendant?"

"Funny how using formal trial worlds makes us believe we are facing a real trial… But yes. One more." He turned to Regina and time skipped a beat. "What of your father?"

"What about my father?"

"You loved him dearly, I understand."

"Yes. My father was the person I loved the most."  
"Is that why you named your adopted son after him?"

"Yes. I named _my son_ Henry after my father."

"And yet, all that love meant nothing for him. Given the fact that he died the moment you ripped his heart out of his chest to cast the curse with it."

Once more Regina sought Emma out. There was a little girl's laughter echoing in her heart, telling her that Emma would stand with her through this. She tried her best to believe it. But the truth was if she were hearing this about someone she loved, she was not quite sure there would be any amount of feeling, of desire that would surpass the absolute disgust and revolt. Emma's face was pinched but it did not avoid hers. Emma gave her small nod of encouragement. "Yes."

"I seem to remember you as far more verbose than these monosyllabic replies would suggest, Your Majesty."

"And I seem to remember you preferring that from your witnesses. Must facilitate your understanding of their replies, no doubt." Regina deadpanned and Emma giggled. An honest to god giggle. There were some echoes of it from the silent crowd.

"You killed the person you loved the most. Your father. In cold blood. The man who always protected you, who always covered for your many sins. You have a funny notion of loyalty and love. Killing your own father for personal gain. That is despicable in my opinion." And he looked around the room as if daring the crowd to have a different one.

"Luckily for us, no one asked your opinion." Emma quipped from her seat where James was whispering something in her ear.

"More's the pity." The Prosecutor retorted. "It seems that the whole of this town needs a refresher course on morals. And family values."

"From you?" Emma stood because really, this was better done with some height advantage. "The man who sends his son to his death for a truckload of gold from King Midas and then sends his replacement son to his death to cover up for the death of the original model? And then has him killed by beheading for loving a woman without a throne? I'm sure I would love to sit through one of those." Emma's boots pounded on the wooden floor when she approached the Prosecutor standing between him and Regina. "Now, I have a question for you from my very own pretty little head: your wife died quite young. You never remarried."

"I was heartbroken."  
"I'm sure you were. I'm sure it means you never again had sex."

"That is my personal business. Stay out of it."  
"No. You minded mine so call it _turn about_ which is fair play. Does that mean that you never again had sex? Were you made impotent by your wife's death?"  
"Don't be ridiculous."

"Okay. So is it fair to say that you had plenty of it? Of sex, I mean. With consenting adults, no doubt. Though memory serves some of the residents of Storybrooke quite well. And they remember your preference for young girls at your service."

"That is none of your business."

"Yeah, it is. You engaged in sex acts with young girls at your service. Did they go to you of their own free will?"

"Of course!"

"I wonder how much free will there is when you are 15 or 16, at the service of a king."

"None, Princess. None." A woman in her forties stood up from the crowd. "_I_ had none. Not with him."

"This is preposterous. She was not my sex slave. How can you even compare?"

"Consent is key, King George. You did the same thing are you are pointing your finger at. This woman did not consent. Others did not consent. Graham did not consent. Same difference. You both did the same. Get down from your high horse."

"Emma_" Snow interrupted. "Just because they both did it, just because everybody else was doing it, it does not excuse such behavior."

"No, it does not. But what it does is prove that there has always been two standards- one for him, one for men and another for women. She did nothing that he did not do himself. She killed. He killed. He was a king. She was a queen. Hell, if we're going to nit-pick, you killed, Snow. James did too. Granny. Red. The dwarves. You all have blood on your hands. But it seems that she is the only one standing trial. And it seems that he is always excused of the same shit because he's a man. She gets to be the _villainous murderer_ _slash rapist_ because she's a woman. If we're going to punish her for it, at the very least, I want to know what everybody else's excuse for it is."

There was no reply from any of the parties. Not a sound. "No? Thought so. We are all so justified, aren't we?

"Ah, but this is simply ridiculous... next thing you'll all be… burning your bras in the public square." The Prosecutor stood. "It's always something with you: either the poor childhood or the fairies were not there or a marriage or a daughter... always something, always whining, whining, whining. There is no excuse for what she has done. None. And if nothing else proves that she is a heartless snake, the fact that she turned on her father, the fact that, in cold blood, she ripped his heart out of his old chest to feed her curse, proves it. Beyond any reasonable doubt. And as we sit here, I see no regret. I see not an ounce of apologetic behavior. Not a crumb of remorse. All I see is defiance and arrogance."

"Oh, for the love god," Emma seemed endowed with infinite patience at that moment. "Leave my underwear out of this and for once, try not to get too carried away by your own press. Most of you sitting here today have seen Regina's defiant face before. Not just in Storybrooke when her son fell down the mine or when this very building exploded with us inside. I'd say you should be well familiar with that expression as you have never seen any other. The same way you are accustomed with Ruby's micro skirts or Granny's TNT coffee or Gold's shady deals or the Prosecutor's sour face. It is what it is and there is no point in talking about it any further. We all protect our secrets in whatever way we are capable of. But she is sitting here today. Did any of you force her to it? Understand it any way you want it. God knows that will always be the case. But I do want to ask a few things. Because I too am tired of getting answers only from other people. I want to know, Regina, where was your father when you were given all tied in a pretty little bow to the king. Did your father know that you did not want that marriage? Did he know that your mother's ambitions were not yours?"

Regina looked trapped. She was paralyzed in her chair, looking at Emma as if Emma had turned on her. Her mouth dried and her heart beat violently against her ribs and it felt like her lungs were going to explode, to rip her body apart. No. This was not okay. She could talk about Graham. She could cop up to all of it. Every single sin. She could tell every single sin she had committed, every slight she had caused, every knife she had turned on each wound. Her beating heart inside her chest knew every single one of those sins. Every last one. But her father? Her father had done nothing but try to protect her. Her chin slumped to her chest and it was difficult to try to get past Emma's betrayal. Emma should have known. Emma should have known. "Emma, please, don't."

"Don't what, Regina? Don't talk about your daddy? Was he a good daddy? Protective? Faithful?"

"He was the only one that never left me."

"Was he a good father? Tell me, Regina, was he all you needed him to be? Please tell me that he stood between you and your mother. Please tell me that he stood between you and your husband. Or you and yourself. I'll settle for that. Tell me that when he saw you on the downward spiral, he fought you tooth and nail to save you from yourself."

Regina remained stubbornly silent, tears pricking at her eyes like pepper.

"Please, Regina, tell me. One thing a time. Did he try to stop your marriage to the king?"

"No." Regina carved her nails on her palms until she felt the pain tingle in her spine. Of all her many betrayals, this was the one, the one that her father could not possibly forgive her.

"Did you tell him that you did not want to marry the king?"

Emma steeled herself to ignore the hurt in Regina's eyes, the silent pleading, the begging to drop the subject. She took one deep breath and it was acrid and painful. Regina whispered the answer: "Yes."

"When your mother _taught_ you, when she _showed you the way_, did your father ever stand between you and her? Did he ever stop her?"

"We do not_" It must have hurt Regina's throat to speak, it must have burnt all the way from her stomach to her eyes, but Emma did not cave, did not let go of the whip of her words. "We do not speak of such things."

"Did he stop her, Regina?" It nearly broke Emma in half, to hold fast, to oppose Regina in that way that made her look like she was self-destructing. Or worse yet, that Emma was pressing the button herself. "Did he ever stop her?"

"He tried."

"Did he stop her?"

"He tried, Emma. He tried."

"But he failed."

Regina shook her head in denial and it was as if that minute movement was painful. Emma could see her struggling with the truth and saw the moment she lost. "Yes."

Emma wanted to go over to that chair in view of all of Storybrooke and make this stop. She wanted to take Regina in her arms and let her cry until it felt better.

"Did he ever stop you? All those times you tried to kill Snow, all those plots, all that anger, all that hate... did he ever stop you, did he ever just tell you that you were turning into your mother? Did he give you anything to feel that was not hate and anger and resentment? Did he ever stop you from doing those things?"

"He tried."

"Did he stop you?"

"He tried. Please Emma. He tried."

"But he failed."

She would not cry, Regina promised herself. She would not cry. "It was not his job to do that."

"It damned well was. Did he fail, Regina?"

"Yes."

"He failed you in every way."

"He was a wonderful father."

"No, Regina, he wasn't." And there was infinite patience in Emma's tone. Kindness, too. She knew she was taking away the last of Regina's illusions about her family.

"What would you know? What would you know about family?" She could see the regret as soon as the words left Regina's lips.

"Not a thing." Which was not true. Not anymore anyway. "But I do know- from personal experience- that having a child does not make you a parent any more than having a piano makes you a pianist."

"Don't talk about my daddy. Leave him out of this. I killed him. I killed him. Leave him out of this."

"Do you love your father?"

"Yes!"

"Despite everything? Despite all his failings?"

"Yes, I do."

"And still you killed him. To cast the curse, you put your hand through his chest, took out his heart and killed him."

One tear. One tear alone fell down Regina's cheek. And then another. Her hand shook as it swiped at each tear in turn. It pissed Emma off. It pissed her off that she had to put Regina on display to prove something she knew in her heart, without any further proof, to be true: that Regina's life was built on nothing but regrets and sorrow and disappointment. It pissed her off but she had to prove it to everybody sitting in that courtroom. So she let the tears be seen. Even though Regina would hate her for it. For going after each one of her weaknesses and showing it off to the whole town. It was betrayal. Emma knew she had betrayed Regina. And that Regina would not forgive her for it. Hell, she had a hard time forgiving herself for it. But she was not old Henry. No, that she wasn't. She would fight Regina tooth and nail if needed to save her. Because she knew not one thing about family except that you give the ones you love their best chance. Even if it costs you the world.

Emma waited a beat. She waited through the Prosecutor calling it all an unimaginative hoax and crocodile tears and bad piece of acting. Regina was closed off, a wall between her and the world that left Emma on the outside. Then, she asked for a recess.

One look from Snow to Regina, eyes vacant as if she was no longer there and the gavel hit the table.

"I know it's early, but let's break for lunch. Or coffee. Let's reconvene at 1 o'clock."

The sound of the gavel on the table reverberated through Regina's whole body as if a sentence had been passed.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma stood between the paralyzed crowd and Regina. This was it, this was that moment of the _one more word and the dam will break,_ so for a few seconds she did nothing, just stood there, unable to make a decision on how to push forward. In the end, Granny came to her rescue again.

"Alright folks, 50% off your coffee for this morning only to go with freshly baked goods. At full price, of course." It seemed to break the spell and the crowd spilled out in waves of noise like a receding tide of the Atlantic.

Snow stood and walked away from her desk. She wanted to say something so badly, she wanted to break that intense concentration of Emma's, that way that she focused solely on Regina and everything else disappeared from her radar. But there was no point. No, having birthed a child made her no more a parent than that piano of Emma's speech. She hoped to all that was holy that letting go at the moment did go some way to it.

She was the last one to exit the room and closed the door behind her.

"I'm sorry." Emma crouched in front of Regina. "I'm so sorry." Tentatively, she put her hands on Regina's legs and rubbed softly, aiming for a soothing motion. "I keep on hurting you and… Jesus, Regina, I'm so sorry. Please. I know you're pissed. I made you look weak in front of them. I made you look at your dad. I know that. But…" Regina stood then and walked to her usual seat. "Talk to me. Regina, please…"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The trouble with her was that along the way, somewhere, Regina has lost the ability to hear, to comprehend an apology. She had lost the ability to accept it. As if it was a foreign language, a foreign concept, a foreign land.

The trouble with her was she was not sure she deserved this apology. Or that she needed it. She hoped Emma could know that, because Emma had a way of understanding her even when she used all the wrong words or when she had no words at all.

The trouble with her was, when she turned to Emma, her brain could not keep up with the speed of her body and she lost her footing. The trouble with her was, there was a stopper in her throat and she could not breathe and her vision went dark around the edges.

Thank god she could smile still. Or she hoped she did.

The trouble with her was, the world went dark and slid from under her feet before she could say anything to Emma.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina's eyes fluttered closed and she slid to the floor. Emma reached out her arms and somehow managed to cushion the fall with her own body. Then she slid to the floor and held Regina to her. Air became a syrupy thing that refused to work with her lungs. Her hands ran over Regina's face and she tried to revive her, she called Regina's name and blew cold air on her face that was now pale and sickly. She pulled at the turtle neck of Regina's sweater to try to make it easier for Regina to breathe but the collar was there and did not give an inch. She rubbed Regina's arms trying to activate circulation. What the hell were you supposed to do when some faints in your arms? She thought of screaming. Someone would come. Someone would always come.

She pulled at the turtle neck of the sweater again, carefully trying to slide it from under the collar. When the wool finally gave, Emma wished for a brief second it hadn't. The skin was blistered, burnt, macerated where the collar sat every day. The exact same shape. She touched the collar and it felt warm to her fingers, an unnatural heat that had nothing to do with Regina's body heat and everything to do with magic. She tried to slip her fingers under it, to break it or melt it or anything, anything at all that would rid Regina of it. God, how could she have sat there, day after day with that thing burning through her skin? And how could Emma be so dim, so careless that she had not noticed it? On hindsight, she could do the math. She could remember Regina not undressing, she could remember how they had touched each other through clothes, how Regina had clung to the wool like a drowning person to the last plank of wood. And Henry. This was what Henry had seen. Hindsight. Always 20/20.

Emma was angry, just so angry, at herself for not noticing. At Regina for not complaining. At Henry for not telling her. Just so angry. She pulled at the collar again and again, careful not to let it touch the skin, not to inflict any more damage.

The fairy. She was going to murder that fairy and use her skin for a drum.

But then Regina's eyes fluttered open and relief washed over her in a wave of sweat and a shiver and Emma was never so thankful for anything in her life.

"Welcome back."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma's hands were on her face and it made her smile. She opened her eyes because Emma was right there, holding her, arms around her, legs under her. All she knew was Emma. She smiled. Then her eyes focused and lost the dimness at the edges of her vision and all she could see was Emma, her hair, her eyes and she relaxed. Safe. She was absolutely safe.

Emma tucked the wool of the turtle neck back under the collar and for a horrible second, Regina knew that Emma had seen it and was going to talk about it. She touched her hand to Emma's and asked her, quietly, to not go there. To not say a word about it.

Emma's sigh was, perhaps, the best acquiescence she was going to get.

"I'm sorry, Regina." Regina wanted to touch that face but her hands and her arms were not cooperating. If there was one thing she understood it was people doing things with her best interest at heart. Her mother had been an expert at that. Emma was different. Emma was different.

"You needed to know that I regret it."

"No. I know you do." Emma was so very different. "I just wanted them to see it. I'm sorry."

"How can you do this? How can you stand by me through all of this?" Emma adjusted her body around Regina and tightened her arms as if that was reply enough.

"There is no better place to be."

"How do you know I'm not plotting to take you down when you're looking the other way?" Regina's fingers touched Emma's hand closed tight around her arm and studied it, committed it to memory. "How do you know that the Prosecutor is not right? That I am not manipulating you? What evidence do you have?"

"None. I mean, I've had your mother in my head and your heart in my hands. _I had your heart in my hands._ But proof? None. I just believe you."

"And that's enough for you?"

"Yes."

"Super power?"

Emma blushed a deep shade of red before she answered. "No. Something else."

Regina's heart pounded, alive, alive, alive. "I dreamed of you last night."

"What did I do?"

"You had brown eyes. You were little and had fireflies in your hair and brown eyes."

"Me?"  
"Yes, it was you. You said you were hope. My hope."

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

"I would love that."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Blue came into the room with the rest of the crowd, unhurried. There was time. The key to everything was time. She stared at a man sitting centre of the second row until he stood, uneasy, and gave her his seat. He found himself a spot standing against a wall and studiously avoided so much as glancing in her direction again. Vanity dictated it was a good thing. Caution said otherwise, but her train of thought was interrupted by the Sheriff who pushed through the first row toppling chairs and attendees to get to her. The sheriff grabbed her by the wool of the blue cardigan and pulled her to her feet. "Take it off. Take it off of her now. Right the fuck now, do you understand me?" The sheriff spoke softly in her ear and it would have been, if she was so inclined, far more threatening than if she had screamed or punched her. But as it was, it was enough to attract the curious eyes of the closest part of the crowd that had already settled down. Okay. She was game. "Your highness, what are you doing? Please put me down. You are hurting me. Please." The plaintive tone came naturally to her. Years and years of not being able to use it to full effect and still she had not lost it. Huh… good. It went a small way to placate her.

True to form, the princess shook her in her uniform. Oh this was just too good. "You know what it does to her. You know what that shit is doing. Take it off now."

"It is stopping her from using magic, Your Highness."

"It's hurting her."

"Your highness_"

"Quit it with the title. Take it off."

"You know it is there for protection. To protect us from her powers. Surely," Her voice was rising with each word, making it audible to more and more rows of the crowd. People were staring now and looking uncomfortable. "Surely you understand how dangerous she is to all of us. You were not there, Princess. You do not know what she is capable of."

"No. You have no idea what I am capable of." The sheriff punctuated every word with a shake of her hands. Good. This was so good.

The queen rose from her seat and Blue did a little shrinking into her habit. Fear. Every moron in Storybrooke should be able to see fear and take it as their cue. "Emma." The queen mumbled from her spot. The crowd was uneasy at best. Maybe a tear would sway them.

And then that busybody Widow Lucas was in on the action again, pulling the Sheriff by the scruff of her neck. Just when things were going so well. Alas, you could not manage every single detail. Which was a shame. The widow whispered something to Emma that silenced the woman. Then again, it made for a more interesting and eventful game.

The sheriff released her and looked at the queen with a pained expression.

And she felt stronger immediately.

.

.

Sister Astrid watched from the door with a heavy heart.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

After that, the afternoon was a blur to Regina. The crowd settled down behind her. They whispered things and commented and even if she'd had it in her to care, there was no laughter, no mocking. No threat. It was a strange place to be because she was so used to being at odds with everything and everyone that not feeling that active barrage of distrust or fear or dislike felt like wearing a skin that is not really hers.

Snow hit her gavel on the table. The same gavel, the same table Regina had used as Mayor. She called the session to order and ordered the Prosecutor to proceed. He looked at the assembled Storybrooke with something akin to hate and declared that the Prosecution rested.

The prosecution rested.

She had prepared to sit through weeks, months, years of grievance upon grievance. She had expected the citizens of Storybrook to queue for that chair, to face off with her, to demand justice for themselves, for their loved ones. She had prepared for a crescendo of hate, of fury, of indignation. Steeled herself for it. She knew she deserved it.

But Storybrooke was quiet. She looked for the woman that had spoken about George and his predilection for young girls in his bed. She wanted to see that you could survive that and not be _her_. She needed to know it was possible to do better than she herself had done. She found her sitting behind Emma, studying her with a clinical interest, a certain detachment. But no animosity.

"Well, then, is the defense ready?"

Emma nodded and stood, leaned against Snow's desk, organising her thoughts. "I'm not here to tell you all that you are wrong. You're not. But I am here to tell you that there are always, at the very least, two ways to look at things, two opinions, two perspectives, two sides to every story. I know you've been hurt. I know you have left things behind that you miss, that you are angry about leaving. But I would hope you could think about the things you have gained. Some people have agreed to come here and remind you that you all gained something. Even if you cannot out right see it. I hope that maybe you just need reminding. So I'd like to call Prince Charming."


	20. Chapter 19

Author's very important note: Possible TRIGGER WARNING for part of this chapter. An OC is coming into this story and she has things to say about another character. Her name is Mrs Cooke and she will testify after Charming. Please avoid that section if you are triggered by mentions of rape. If you choose to avoid it and still want to know what was said, PM me and I will give you the gist.

Much love

Jane

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Chapter 19

James walked unwavering footsteps to the witness chair by Snow and sat. There was right and there was wrong and his mother had raised him to know the difference. But back then things were different. No one had ever told him that there was something in between the right and the wrong: the omission. He touched Snow's hand. They had talked about this at length. He had felt her stiffen in his arms when he had first told her that he wanted to speak. He loved Snow. He loved her like no one else in the whole wide world. But that did not blind him to her quirks. It did not blind him to the little things. He knew she would have accepted this from anyone else. But from him? It was personal. It was personal even now that they had spent the night awake, morosely looking at each other from opposite sides of the bed; it was personal even now that they had talked and that he had explained that he had an obligation not just to Emma, not just to the truth but even to Regina. Regina. Not the Evil Queen. That people changed- both for better and for worse. He held on to her hand even knowing that she hated him a little bit at that moment, even knowing that she could probably not stand the sight of him. But she was his true love and he was not going to give up on her.

He looked at her and tried to convey that with his steady gaze. The courtroom was silent. Probably trying to take the measure of this new development. And then there was his daughter. His perfect, beautiful daughter standing there in the middle of the room, studying Snow. He knew what was going through her mind, through her heart: the love for two people so different from each other and having to hurt one to save another. He knew that very well. As he knew also how much she would sacrifice of herself to see that her decision cost each of them the least possible. He looked at his daughter and saw all that he had hoped for her from the moment he knew she was coming into the world. And it was Regina that she was defending; it was Regina that brought out the best in her. Regina that had made her stay and made her fight and made her come into her own. That, more than anything, he was thankful to the woman for. She had caused him to put his daughter in a wardrobe and lose her for 28 years. But she was also the reason she had stayed. The reason he had her back. He cleared his throat. They had procrastinated enough. It was time to start.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma looked at her mother and wondered if she was going to have to hurt one of the people she loved to save another. If she was going to have to make a choice. Snow had said she was okay with it, with people coming and saying something that could help Regina. But until that morning, Emma did not know that it would include her father. It did not look like it was coming as a surprise to Snow. It looked a lot like Snow knew this was coming. Which did not mean she looked even remotely okay with it if the pained –though stoic- expression was anything to go by.

But her father- her _dad_ (oh, she had a dad) - was sitting on the chair by Snow's side and he was going to testify and he did not look the least bit reluctant. How would it have been to have grown up with a father like him?

She had no clue how to start. She had no clue how to even address him. "Hi." He gave her an encouraging, uncomplicated smile. "David. James."

"How about David? Or Charming? I know it sounds ridiculous but it is more my name than James."

"How come?"

"He named my brother James." He pointed with his chin at the Prosecutor. "When the real James died, I became James."

"I wish that had been true!" The Prosecutor mumbled from his seat loud enough that the whole room could hear.

"Or not. But James was never my name. It was David."

"I thought that was your cursed name…"

"Funny, isn't it? When I woke up here, with no memory of who or what I was, I was David again. The curse gave me back my real name."

"I like David." Emma saw Snow's hand squeeze David's. Maybe she liked it too. The reluctant little smile on her face told Emma that Snow liked it too. At least a little bit. "David, some people might think that you agreed to come here because of me. I wouldn't blame them. I really wouldn't. Part of me likes that thought too, the part that will always need a little validation to feel better about herself. But that's not it, is it?"

"No. Or not only. I guess none of us will ever be quite sure." He looked at Snow as if the comment was all for her.

"I mean, certainly, you would be justified to hate Regina. To want to see her hang or however it is you execute people in the Enchanted Forrest."

"Well, there are several schools of thought. King George was partial to the guillotine. My head was between his blades at some point."

"You had Regina facing a firing squad."

"Indeed. Arrows."

"So why the change of heart?"

"It's not. Not really. Or not totally. I had the Evil Queen on the docks. But this is not the Evil Queen… I think. It's the Mayor. Or Regina Mills. It's not the same person."

"Can you be a little more specific?"

"We all know the story. Or think we know, at least. But for all of that, for all the times she tried to kill Snow, for the curse and everything else, she saved my life. Twice. How easy would it be to let me die? To let Snow lose her true love, like Regina lost hers? She saved me that day in the gallows. The king that bought me to be his son gave the order. The blades were on their way down. Do you know that I could actually feel the wooden frame of the guillotine rumble with the blades coming down, the air swishing around my neck…? The Evil Queen turned the blade into water when it was already on its way down."

"Out of kindness of her heart?"

"Whatever her motives, she stopped the execution. I lived to have her in the docks. If her purpose was simply to annihilate Snow, she could simply have shown her the execution through her magic mirror. Or whatever magic thing she could think of."

"So what's your theory?"

"I don't have one. At the time I could only see the cruelty of getting me in a dungeon, of making me watch Snow bite into that apple for me. I still see that as cruel."

"It sounds like you have a theory after all." But David was looking at Snow again and there was a little twist of his lips that promised a smile. No, he had a theory, but Snow came first. And Emma could live with that. "And the second time she saved your life?"

"Here. She found me and took me to a hospital where I was cared for; where Snow found me and woke me up. If the end game was to hurt Snow, by then she did not remember me. But whatever the motive, she took me to where I was cared for. She could have left me to rot where she found me. Why bother?"

"And still you do not have a theory."  
"Still, I don't, no. What I know is that I see a different person now. I just wanted to say that. I'd forgotten she'd saved me once. I did not want to forget it a second time. I did not want anyone to forget."  
"So you believe that people can change?"

"I didn't before. Now I do. And I believe in mitigating circumstances too. But most of all, I believe in the truth. The whole truth. Not the truth according to some or the truth by increments. And it may not mean much that she saved me, not in the grand scheme of things, but it meant two things for me: one, that I lived to be your father and two, that I lived to see you again, to remember you. To be proud of you. That means the world to me."

_Oh, god, he's gonna cry,_ Emma thought with a mixture of emotion and embarrassment, and her eyes burned too. And if she cried, she was going to kick David up the backside for ruining her street cred.

"So," The Prosecutor interrupted from his desk, arms across his chest and slightly slumped on the chair as if he simply could not force himself to care. "You propose what? Forgive and forget? BFFs forever and ever? Isn't that sweet? WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF US?" He bellowed the last few words. "What about justice for us? She had a problem with you two. Should we have been involved in that? Or should you two sit in the docks with her for all the nuisance you have caused us, innocent bystanders?"

"Innocent my ass!" Emma turned on her heels. "Have you heard nothing of what went on in here?"  
"Only the important parts, my dear. My brain carefully selected only the truth."

"How handy."

"Does the Prosecution have any further questions?" Snow interrupted just in case the conversation got out of hand.

"No. That will be all."

"Go figure!" Emma could not help but provoke the Prosecutor a little. James stood and walked to sit behind Regina.

"Thank you." Regina whispered when James accommodated his long, fluid frame behind her. "And I'm sorry."  
"For what part? The dungeon? The curse? The rest of it?"

"The seduction lasagna dinner. I'm so sorry." James pinched his face in disbelief. At that moment Regina wanted to laugh because he was so much like Emma they could be carbon copies.

"Seduction?"

"Pathetic attempt at. I'm sorry."  
"One more jab at Snow, right?" Regina merely nodded, a blush covering her cheeks. "Don't mention it. I'm serious. I'm already on thin ice with Snow. Don't mention it at all."

Regina looked at Emma. No, she would not. That would be all levels of uncomfortable. She felt pathetic enough as it was.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Blue approached the Prosecutor. It was a gamble to reveal her hand so easily without any leverage, especially because he seemed not overly fond of her which really bothered neither way, except for the repercussions. She flexed her hands by her side and felt the magic inside her hum, hum, hum like an engine revving, roaring to life. She sat behind him, carefully watching for someone paying attention to her movements, to someone looking at her more closely. It seemed, though, that once again, the throng of Storybrooke was, collectively, dimwitted, inattentive and, as usual, that played right into her hands. The Prosecutor spared her a glimpse but inched backwards on his chair, close enough that they could maintain a conversation without standing out.

.

.

From her wallflower position, Nova gritted her teeth against the soreness in her back and the heartache of disappointment.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina's body relaxed when Emma returned to her seat and exchanged a few words with Charming. He pointed at the woman that had intervened in the morning and Regina followed his gesture with her eyes. The woman sat very much in the same spot as in the morning, a few rows back, disappearing between other women who clustered together as if they were a castle made of playing cards. She didn't know them. They had been part of the landscape of Storybrooke from the beginning. She remembered the fading red of the hair of the woman that had spoken. She remembered the plump cheeks and the pretty dimples and the working hands of the woman but she could not quite place her in Storybrooke, just like she could not place her in the old land. But here she was, brought here by her curse.

The woman was nervous, shaky, flustered and when Emma called her, Regina could see the tremor in her hands. She wished she could remember anything, anything at all about this woman. Anything that could mitigate whatever the curse had done to her. The curse was her revenge but too many had been caught up in it. Too many that she could not justify to anyone, to Emma, let alone to herself.

"The defense calls Mrs Cooke."

Mrs Cooke walked towards the witness chair with her eyes scanning the room as if she were prey looking out for a hunter.

Emma waited for her by the wooden railing that divided the room and walked her to the chair. Mrs Cooke's eyes were locked with Regina's as if they could not break the connection in that gaze. She sat by Snow not without a small curtsy that Snow acknowledged with respect.

Emma could not help but wonder if this was going to be the way of things from then onwards, as if they were living in a period drama where everyone had forgotten their costumes and the props had not yet arrived on set.

"Mrs Cooke, thank you for coming. I know this is not the easiest place to sit for you."

"It's not, no."

"And still you came."

"Yes, Your Highness, I did. I heard that we would all have our say here. So I came to say my piece." Mrs Cooke choked on her words by the end of what was clear to Emma was a rehearsed sentence. Mrs Cooke had rushed through it as if she would forget some of the words or run out of time for them. Mrs Cooke replenished the air in her lungs. "I came to say my piece." And she wrung her hands in her lap, twisting the skin into purple and white ripples under her calloused fingers.

"Mrs Cooke, you know that no one can hurt you now, don't you?"

"With all due respect, Your Highness, after certain things in life, it is hard to believe that you will ever be safe." What do you say to that? What promises do you make? Emma took a moment to admire Mrs Cooke's courage, her determination. Emma simply assented silently to the remark. "In any case, I don't stand to lose any more that I already did."

"Mrs Cooke, can you please explain for the court who you were before the curse?"

"No one. No one of import anyway. A woman that no one wanted, working in the king's feud land away from his sight."

"What king?"

"King George." Mrs Cooke pointed with her chin but averted her eyes as if she could not surpass a lifetime habit and fear.

"And with the curse?"

"No one of import either. Housewife to Mr Cooke."

"Mrs Cooke, please forgive the bluntness of the question, but why is it that you wanted to come here today? What is that you want to say to the court?"

"Your Highness asked who thought they were better off here. Who thought Storybrooke was not such a bad place. For me, it was a good place. It was a good time. Now that the curse is broken, not so much. There is nowhere else to run and believe me, the past has a very big stride to catch up with you. I had forgotten, you see. And now I remember it all again. I wish I could forget."

"What do you wish to forget, Mrs Cooke."

"I want to be Mrs Cooke again. When we remembered who we were, Mrs Cooke disappeared under the old skin, under the old shame, under the nightmares and the hurt that never heals. I want to be her again. I want to be Ada Cooke again. I don't want to remember being Adela the kitchen maid or Adela the _poor soul_. I don't want to remember what he did to me. I was at peace during the curse. I had no memory. Do you know what a curse memory is? I wish to forget. I wish I could forget."

"Mrs Cooke, you don't have to talk about it if you do not want to."  
"I know. I don't really want to… to talk about it, you know? But it's not going away. We were told we would all have a turn. _He_ said that we could all have a turn. And I think I will take my turn at the truth now. I have hidden my shame long enough for this. So now I want to speak of it. I want to say it loud because the curse ended so my peace ended. Now I have all the memories, all the nightmares of that time again as if no time at all has passed. And maybe the truth can bring me some of the peace the shame didn't. Look at us." She pointed towards the end of the room where four more women bundled together as if they were preparing to face off a hurricane. "We have all been hiding. What we had here, what lives the curse gave us, we lost when it broke. Look at us…"

Mrs Cooke's voice broke then, unable to continue. Emma gave her time to regroup, to get a hold on herself. The she asked. "Mrs Cooke… What truth do you want to have a turn at?"

"Do you know what was different back there? No one would think of their rights. No one thought they had the right to protect their children. My mother was happy when I started to serve at the King's household. It was good, you know? There was food likes of which we have never seen and my mother had one less mouth to feed, one less to clothe and one less to take care of. And then he took me to his bed." She looked at the Prosecutor and did not lower her gaze until she had finished. "He took me to his bed. Commanded me to his bed. When I was fifteen. And afterwards, when I dragged myself home, my mother cleaned me up from what he left behind and sent me back because when you start at the service of the king, you don't leave unless he tells you to go. So I went back. To the castle and to his bed when he wanted. Who else would want me anyway? Who else was I good for after I had _served_ a king like that? What else were _we_ good for after that? When he got tired of me- tired of us- there were more, younger, prettier. He forgot about us then. He walked over us like fall leaves on the floor. We never could forget about him. For us, there was only loneliness of knowing that you will never find someone that can look beyond what happened to you. People looked at us funny, they pitied us. Do you know what it feels like to have pity be the best you can hope for from others?" She changed the direction of her gaze then. She looked at Regina and remained silent, catching her breath, gripping ferociously at the tears that had been dancing at her eyes since she had first looked at the Prosecutor. "My truth… our truth," Again she included the other women huddling together in the crowd, "Is that we had nothing there, not even peace. We can only be thankful for the curse. For Storybrooke."

Emma looked at the other women. Mrs Smith; Mrs Wood; Mrs Brooke. Completely unremarkable. How do you go about life dragging such weight with you? "Mrs Cooke… You are all married here."

Mrs Cooke smiled but it was a tragic smile laden with tears. "It would appear she gave us our hearts' fondest desires. We got to have what could have never have been ours back there- a home, a husband, a life of our own. And yet, here we sit alone again."

"What happened?"

"We are both, your highness. So are our husbands. They are both. They cannot forget what they were then: unable to see past the shame. They walked away when they remembered who they were. Who we were."

"I don't have any more questions…" It was difficult for Emma to walk away. It seemed that no one could look past what they had been. What others had been. When she sat, Mrs Cooke was just waiting for the Prosecutor, waiting for the storm.

The Prosecutor spoke from his seat, not bothering to stand. "It was called a _King's tenure_, his birthright. But this is not what we're here to discuss. What I would like you to answer is very simple, though. You seem to be looking at the defendant as if you have something in common… some sort of… bond? I see you looking at her as if the defendant had granted you some sort of special favor. But let me remind you that, not knowing you from anywhere, she, more likely than not, did not design your life here to your _heart's fondest desire_. More likely than not, it was an accident of fate."

Emma ground her teeth, gnashing them together until her jaw hurt. The Prosecutor was enjoying the systematic destruction of even the smallest consolation for Mrs Cooke. Callous bastard. "Is there a question in there? Or is this another preview to the closing arguments?"

"Oh, no, there is a question. Do you see the difference, Mrs Cooke? Between you and her? And I don't mean the title or the power. I mean the heart. You have just painted a miserable life for the court. The defense painted a miserable life for the defendant, so, on all accounts, you could be kindred spirits. Is that what you think? That you have something in common?"

Emma moved forward on her chair, ready to stand between the Prosecutor and Mrs Cooke who seemed unable to form words. Mrs Cooke nodded but no words formed.

"Do you think you two are the same? Because you're not. You lived your life as you should have lived it. The defendant perverted the laws of nature, ensnared, plotted and murdered, cursed an entire world for the sake of power. You are nothing like her. And you should be proud."

A tear slid down Mrs Cooke's plump cheek, the pretty blue of her eyes clouding over. "Do you know what I thought when the trial began?" The Prosecutor's half smile muted. He had not expected her to speak again. His had always been the last word. "When I realized that we were here because the queen had cast a curse? I thought that I should sneak into that cave where they're keeping her and ask her to teach me how to do it. How to cast it again. I know I don't have much in common with her, but I promise you that I am not proud. Because if I had half her strength, you'd be dead too."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The whispers spread through the courthouse like wildfire. Mrs Cooke's tears were finally spilling, silently, as if nothing else was standing in the way of them. She stood and walked to her seat in the middle of the room. When she walked past Regina, she slowed and curtsied. Regina caught herself in time, having reached out to touch the other woman's hand, retracting hers just before they touched. The Prosecutor was right about that: they had very little in common. Mrs Cooke did not carry the sins she did.

But Mrs Cooke reached out her hand and touched Regina's shoulder and told her "Thank you." And then she walked to the other women, where she huddled with them, shoulder to shoulder, leaving Regina shocked and teary.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

She hated the energy in the room, this restless thing between understanding and sympathy that included the Evil Queen. No, that would not do at all. This was not the plan and she was getting upset and tired of all the variables that seemed to have multiplied when the curse broke. Oh why, oh why had the blond meddler decided to stay in her town? Why had the Queen not followed through in that pavlovian behavior of attack, attack, attack, when she felt trapped? The fairy looked at her hands and tried to understand the moment where someone, anyone, had made a decision that did not fit into her plans. When had the queen deviated that tiny little bit from the plan, from the behaviors Rumplestilskin had invested so much in and ended up here, the curse broken, the easy control over the populace gone. It was like an avalanche: the moment that snow flake had fallen on the wrong spot, all had unraveled. Now there was only one thing left to do: damage control. That little shit Emma Swan.

She took a deep breath and clasped restless fingers on her lap. The Prosecutor stole a glance at her. They were agreed then. There was only damage control. She stood, straightened the skirt of her blue habit and walked out of the courtroom, struggling to keep the Mother Superior's small steps all Storybrooke could see.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow looked at the crowd filling the sits and worried. She was not a good queen. She did not love her people above everything else, not like her father and mother had done. She knew the worst about her people. She had lived among them, and knew the unspeakable things they could do when they became a mob instead of individuals. She spotted Ruby sitting in the crowd, demure – by her standards – jeans and tee affecting a not a care in the world attitude. And she worried. She worried about Ruby every single day. What the nice people of Storybrooke could do to her when they became a mob again. And they did. So easily. But Ruby winked and it reminded Snow of their phone conversation that morning. _Relax, Max._ Snow took a deep breath and felt for the bow and arrows discretely tucked under her desk.

"Would the defense call their next witness?"

"Sure. I call Ruby. I mean, Miss Lucas."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

When Emma called her name, Ruby stood and walked to the front of the room, next to Snow. If she knew her friend- and boy, did she ever- Snow would have packed a small arsenal under her desk just _in case_. And Ruby was grateful. She was strong but she was not invincible. With the full moon approaching, the wolf in her made her bolder, feistier… stupider. She wanted to do this. Not for Emma. Or not just for Emma, because as close as she was to her, as thankful for the reprieve being a deputy gave her, she was closer to Snow and she hated hurting her. _Sister of my soul._ No, Ruby wanted to do this for herself. Or as much of her _self_ as she could distinguish between being Ruby and being Red and being wolf. It was complicated. It was probably the pack think. Not a conventional pack like _before_ but a pack at least. The pack of misfits, monsters, lost souls. Everyone around her was just so... _fucking perfect._ Perfect language, perfect manners, perfect heart. That left Regina. And yeah, she was aware of how bad it looked that her kindred spirit was Regina _Evil Queen_ Mills. But a pack was pack. And her pack, it seemed, was Regina (Regina was what Regina was), Whale, looking at her from the cheap seats… and Emma to the point that she did not fit in with all the other effin princesses with the enchanted life and the shiny glass slippers. Ruby raised her head and challenged the town to look at her, to look at her and see something else that was not Ruby or Red and still accept her. Not that they ever did. A girl with legs that go for miles, short skirts and red lipstick is always fated to be looked at with suspicion and dislike.

"Hi Ruby," Emma approached her. She liked this. It was okay, they could do this. It was just like sitting for coffee at the diner. Just shooting the breeze for a little. No life and death situations here. "Thanks for coming."

"I was gonna say _no problem_ but I guess I should save that to the end of this conversation. See what happens, huh?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Emma paused for a second and Ruby could see her working out the safest angle, the one with the least questions, the least danger. "Ruby, you were the first one to tell me you'd do this."

"Was I? Man, I never think things through, do I?" The only thing that betrayed her nerves was the biting of the nail. Or at least Ruby hoped so. She had her legs perfectly still, she was not fidgeting, she kept her gaze steady on Emma. All good.

"I think you do alright… generally…"  
"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Why did you come, Ruby? My dad… god, Ruby, my _dad_ just said that he had an obligation to the truth. That Regina saved his life. "

"Yeah. She did. Probably mine too." She hoped Emma would rise to the challenge and ask her why because Ruby was not quite sure she could say all the things she had spent the night awake rehearsing.

"She saved your life and you want to pull a David and thank her…"

"Look, Emma, I could just say that and go back where I came from. It would not be a lie. But your _dad_ is right. We have an obligation to the truth, don't we? I mean… Did I ever tell you why Granny raised me? No? My mom was something else. And then she was killed, that's why."

She could see Emma's eyes widening, she could smell the pungent smell of fear coming from Emma, from Snow. From Granny. But she had lived her life in fear before. Enough.

"Ruby, you don't need…" Clever girl, Emma. You did not have to tell her a whole story. She was good at filling in the blanks. But in a way, Ruby had waited her whole life for this, for the moment she could be what she was in broad day light and not have to fear for her life.

"Ask me why, Emma."  
"Ruby…" The plaintive tone was strange on Emma.

"She was a wolf, you see. She was a wolf and she ran free. I didn't. I was too scared. But she did. And god, it was beautiful, Emma, beautiful to see, beautiful to be. She was killed because she was a wolf. I was there. You were too, weren't you, Snow? She was killed because of what she was. Do you wanna know the funny thing? Granny passed it on to her. The wolf. And she passed it on to me. Some parents give the most fucked up things to their kids, huh? But look at my Granny. Everybody loves my Granny. Except for the ones she actually makes a point of offending, right?"

Beside her, Snow grabbed for what had to be her bow and quiver but kept it under the table. The crowd was stunned into silence. "My mother was what she was through no fault of her own. Granny too. Me… We got screwed over by somebody else and that I understand about Regina, you know, about Mrs Cooke. We were made into something grotesque by others. And all we ever wanted was what everybody else has so easily." Man, she was not gonna cry. Not now, nor ever. "See, most people remember me with the hood. That was supposed to stop the wolf. Even when I learnt to run with the moon, I had to wear it. People did not feel safe around me. Do you know what that was, Emma?"

Emma turned to see the crowd, to check how long they had. She could see and smell and hear Emma, the blood pumping, the heart beating, the muscles quivering, ready to cut everyone's losses. "I don't know Ruby. Half a life, I guess."

"Less than half a life. I spent my days waiting for the full moon, trying to cheat my luck, because odds are, had we stayed there, I would have ended up dead, my head on some wall as a trophy. I was never whole. We think we're so great, so strong, but let me tell you, it is no picnic to hide what you are from others. To live only a small part of your life in public and hide the rest because it upsets others.

"So you're here now because…"  
"During the curse, I was only Ruby. No wolf, no secrets, no memories. If this was supposed to punish us all, god, Regina, you did a pretty half ass job of it. Do you know how many of us have shit they would rather forget?" There was shuffling of feet and general fidgeting in the crowd and Ruby through, well, this it, they are getting their pitchforks now and that never ended well for anyone.

And then granny stood, crossbow at the ready and turned to face the crowd: "Come on then! What are you waiting for?" _That's my Granny_ and she smiled and cried all at the same time. Next to her, Snow took the bow in one hand and loaded it, expertly, with an arrow from the quiver at her feet. She did not say a word. She did not need to. The crowd did not exactly simmer down. There was fear and distrust in the air - god, she'd be glad when the moon was over and her senses would dull a little – but no move yet, not for her anyway. She would have felt it.

She kept on expecting it, though, the moment the rumble of feet would become shouting and cursing and fists and weapons. Emma did too. But Granny sat again and Snow took her cue from her and sat as well. And all the while Regina was just there, looking absolutely bowled over. It was such a strange look on her if you had not looked at her for past two weeks that Ruby wanted to laugh for causing it, for causing the unflappable Regina Mills to feel overtaken by… emotion?

"I don't have any more questions. Thank you Ruby."

The Prosecutor stood and moved to stand in front of his desk, facing Ruby, pretending to study her.

"A werewolf?" Ruby could not care less if it was question or an accusation so she did not reply. "And this is who comes to the defense of the Evil Queen! A werewolf! Is this a joke? A kitchen maid, a bastard playing prince and a werewolf. Do they go into a bar too? Who's next? The Ugly Duckling?"

It was the most surprising moment of the day, the moment Regina replied from her seat: "The Ugly Duckling was in fact a swan, so we've got that covered." And she leaned against Emma, chin on her shoulder, all challenge. Ruby snorted. It was an act, the defiance. A lie for public consumption. Ruby could still hear the rumble, the trepidation of the muscles, the unsteady beat of Regina's heart, but she liked it. She liked attitude more than that devastated Regina of late.

"Oh, so the truth and the chance at the truth are privilege of princes and kings? Kitchen maids have no say in it?" Emma gave him a second and then tacked on "And if you _ever_ call my dad anything like that again, I shit you not, you're gonna wish you hadn't."

The Prosecutor must have thought better of replying because he simply proceeded as if he never been interrupted.

"I am curious about one thing, though… Why?"

"Why what?"

"Allow me to elaborate: Everybody loves your grandmother."

"Because she hid what she is."

"There is nothing wrong with that. But_"

"There's all manners of things wrong with that. I want to be loved for what I am, not what I could or should be. And Granny has already missed that."

"So what do you think is going to happen now?"

"I know what you think should happen, King George. But I'm past caring."

"Is that why you're here? Do you think you have that in common with the defendant?"

"I don't know. No one knows her- 'cept probably for Emma. No one ever took any time to see her, the real her. But what she did for me? She gave me time without the wolf. And when the curse broke, I got something else out of it: perspective."

"I'm glad of it. Maybe now, with all that _perspective_ you see why a werewolf is a dangerous animal, one that should be controlled. Surely you see the damage that unbridled passions can bring about to others_"

"Oh go to hell. Get your head out of your ass because you can't hear me from all the way up in there. Your sins were always very public. Your crap, your damage to others. _King's tenure,_ huh? You've had the privilege of being born a king so our perspectives are a little different. Mine is that I'm done hiding. I want to close the diner early on full moon nights and I want to run free like my mother did, without having to hide alone or with my pack where no one can see us. And I want to not open the next day in the morning because I'm gonna be exhausted and I want to sleep it off. I want people to come to me and ask if I had a good night, how it felt, what I saw, how the air smelled. Because that's me and why should I just talk about coffees and diners when I'm all of this and it is so beautiful?"

"Because none of us are interested."

"Because none of you know me. The real me."

"I can't say I have any interest in that particular topic."

"And for once I believe you are telling the truth."

"More's the pity!" Whale spoke from the middle of the crowd where he had sat inconspicuously until that moment. "Sheriff, I think I'll take my turn now."

_Welcome to the pack of misfits, Whale._

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

This was a bad idea if he'd ever had one. On every single count possible. Ruby. This was Ruby. Ruby had a Granny. And a Queen armed to the teeth. And a Sheriff. Ruby was brave and that was hot, hot, hot. And he was a wimp, hiding behind his curse name. And now he'd gotten himself carried away thinking with his privates first and his brain had not even engaged yet. _Scheisse_.

But when he looked around, the whole court room was looking at him expectantly, as if he had been about to impart some great medical breakthrough and his feet got so cold it could have been arctic. _What have you done?_ Always this stupid need for validation. _Nein, nein, nein_.

"You will have your turn when I am finished with this witness, Dr Whale."

"Or that." God, he was pathetic. "I can wait. No rush."

The flood of relief running through his body was of tsunami proportions. He just wished Ruby would stop smiling at him before he lost the rest of his mind and confessed to everything.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

He looked cute, Ruby thought from her seat. A little weak at the knees, stinking of fear and cowardice, but cute. Damn, good thing the moon was coming and she would be going after the stronger gene pool or Whale might just be a dear enough for her to get herself in trouble.

"I believe that is my line, Mr Spencer." Snow finally released the bow under her desk and crossed both hands on the desk. "Does the Prosecution have any further questions for the witness?"

Ruby wanted to laugh because the Prosecutor's face was textbook for pissed off. No he had no further questions. Or none that he could drum up at such short notice.

"No further questions, Your Honor."

"Good! Ruby, thank you." And Snow gave the crowd a look that was, quite clearly, a warning. "Will the Defense call their next witness?"

"Yeah, sure. Dr Whale, then."

"Can I not speak from here?"

"Come on, Whale, grow a pair." Ruby challenged him on her way back.

"Sure. Easy for you to say."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Dr Whale?"

"Your Majesty?"

"Are you sure you want to be here?" There was a petty little part to Snow that wished he would just reconsider and leave. Then she looked at Regina and at her daughter and sighed. Still, she would not force anyone.

"I'm not, no, Your Majesty. I'd rather be on a beach surrounded by tanned bikini babes, but it seems I have one last shred of decency that refuses to listen to better sense. Pity, really."

"Okay, then, Dr Whale. Emma?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma walked to Dr Whale and studied him because she did not know what his angle was. She was trying to get a bead for him but the man was a clam. A closed off, glued shut clam. "Dr Whale… I'm not sure if I should beat around the bush with you or not, so here goes nothing. Yesterday you weren't even remotely inclined to come here today. In fact, you seem to have only just changed your mind…"  
"Huh… what an understatement, Sheriff. I can barely believe I changed my mind. Doesn't happen to me often, I can assure you."  
"So… was there any decisive factor?"

"Besides Miss Lucas, you mean?" When Emma looked at Ruby and then at him, Whale nodded sadly. "It occurs to me that I will never be a hero. Not like you or Ruby. I mean… that's not me, okay? If there is an easy way, I'll take it. If there is a short cut, I'm on it. But… we all have secrets, don't we? It seems to me that this whole town is sitting on a cesspool of secrets, so I figured maybe… I don't l know… I guess I figured if I speak now, everybody else is too busy just trying not to sink in their own crap to mind me… That came out pathetic didn't it?"

Emma sighed because yes, it was pathetic but it was also the truth and that was rare. "I'm not even sure what to ask you, Dr Whale. I mean… do I ask you what your secret is? What you're hiding? Or do I ask you if you owe Regina anything that you want to settle now?"

Whale shook his head disconsolate. "You can ask me my name. My real name."

"Your name?"

"Yes. Quite contrary to your father, I am not so proud of mine."

"What's your name, Dr Whale?"

"Frankenstein. My Name is Dr Victor Frankenstein."

Emma missed a beat where her stomach just turned and churned. "The monster?"

"You don't need to look so horrified. You know, I was watching Scooby Doo the other day. Don't make that face, Sheriff."  
"No face. No judgment. My favorite was always Shaggy."

"Mine was Scooby. Do you think that says anything about us?" Emma shrugged. It probably did. "They always call the green monster by Frankenstein or creature. Make him evil, monstrous. But I can tell you this because I know it here, in my heart: Gerhardt was not a monster. He was kind and honorable and all that a father- my father- could ever wish for. I did that to him. The displacement, the pain, the anger. The monstrosity. I got him killed. I got him into the living hell of suffering and misery that were his last days on earth. Me. It's a rare film that shows me, let alone me as the monster. How can perception be so wrong, Sheriff? I just wanted my brother back. My perfect brother."

"You did a lot of…. If I remember the films and the books correctly, you did a lot of nasty stuff, Dr Whale."

"You should know better than most that the fiction from this world does not do justice to those of us they call characters. But in my case, yes. I did a lot of nasty stuff. Most of which they could not begin to fathom."

"Can I ask, then, because I'm sure that the Prosecution will…"  
"I'd rather hear it from you, Sheriff. You make everything sound better than the Prosecutor. Prettier too…"  
"Whale!"

"Sorry. Force of habit."

"Yeah. So why is it exactly that you are here? Is there any parallel? I'm gonna go with the fact that you both lost people you loved and did horrible things to get them back "

"And it would be a nice guess. Not a bad one. But the truth is that among the many _horrible_ things I did, I wronged the queen the most. Willingly. Knowingly. For that I owe her. I am here to apologize. To say that I have a hand on what she became." For a moment it looked like Whale was going to continue but he stopped and his eyes were lost somewhere that Emma could only guess was the past. She looked around for Ruby, hoping for a cue from her on what to do, but Ruby simply shrugged, a sad little smile.

Emma had a terrible thought at that moment: that it might not be enough. Any of it. Whale was her last witness having run out of time, of fairy dust, and maybe, none of it might ever be enough to save Regina and she gave Whale a break. "I have no more questions."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma returned to her seat and fought the urge to bury her head in her hands tooth and nail because she would not do this to Regina, she would not show her how hopeless she felt at that moment, how absolutely terrified she was. How was this enough? A prince, a wolf, a king's victim, Frankenstein and an ugly duckling against all those that had come for the prosecution? How could she have possibly done enough? What had she been thinking, taking this on her own, Emma Clusterfuck Swan?

A cold hand touched her face, soothing. Regina just closed the gap between them and said so very softly "No one has ever done so much for me. Thank you. You mustn't worry, Emma. Whatever happens, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. One that I am absolutely sure I did not deserve. Thank you. For all of it. All of this. For bringing me back my heart. For Henry, for the hope. No one would have done it any better."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The Prosecutor stood and circled Whale like a hyena studying its prey. "Dr Frankenstein."

"I prefer Whale, if it is all the same to you."

"It's not. Dr Frankenstein, on all accounts, you come from a well-off family. Titles, land, standing… Do you not miss it?"

"Being the second. The runt of the litter. The disappointment. Always several apples short of a bushel. No, I can't say that I do."

"Your father's love, your family honor."

"The war, the blood and guts my father wanted to send me to. Knowing myself- having my father know me- for a coward. No, Mr Spencer, I don't miss it at all. Your point?"

"In a minute. You said you killed your brother. Please explain."

"Do you know who I find I have something in common with, Mr Spencer? You."

"I resent that."

"Yeah, me too. But it's there, nonetheless. And what we have in common is pride. A blinding, insurmountable pride." Whale waved it way as if that was neither here nor there. "I wanted to prove myself to my father. For pride. My brother got caught in the crosshairs. For love, I tried to get him back. For love, for guilt and for pride. I was going to be the brilliant Dr Frankenstein. I was going to give my father back his son. I would be the best loved, the greatest. It got my brother killed."

"So this is the poor excuse for a man that you are comes to the Evil Queen's defense. Small wonder. She cannot find any better than the assorted villains and monsters. That is my point, Dr Frankenstein."

"I'm not sure, Mr Spencer. I was never any good with words. But, for once, I like the side of line I'm standing on."

"Your side of the line is defending a monster."

"Maybe we have different definitions of monsters. Gerhard only ever wanted for peace among our family. He was labeled a monster. But I alone condemned him to the monstrosity, to the loneliness of being a monster among perfect people. Do you know what that does to a soul? To know that you are hanging on to your last shreds of humanity and there is no one to stop your fall? No? We are all monsters in our own way, Mr Spencer. For all that he loved Gerhardt, my father wanted him dead for having lost his perfection. That was the last my brother heard from the father who loved him. When we drop people from our hearts, like birds from their nests, how can you expect them to rise again and fly? I was instrumental in the Queen's fall. I walked over her heart, her life, her last hope and made dust out of them in the search for the redemption of my own sins."

"So you think you have that in common with her?"

"Why are you so worried about all of us that came here today having something in common with her? Do you worry that much that some empathy for her might be found? I have nothing in common with her. I create monsters. She was made into one. I was there for that event. I owe her my apologies. I owe her my prostration on the floor and begging for forgiveness. I owe her the great charity she has given me of forgetting what I did to my brother."

"I never took you for the poetic sort, Dr Whale."  
"So now it's back to Whale. What happened to _Dr Frankenstein_?"

"I have no further questions."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

When Snow dismissed him, Whale stood and walked back to the gallery but stopped short, by Regina's side. "I don't know how to do this gracefully… how to apologize gracefully. How to ask for your forgiveness. But I must. What I did… I wish I had no memory of it. What I did to my brother, to you. He is beyond my reach now, but you… you're here. So I guess… I am so sorry. I am so immensely sorry."

Regina swallowed the thickness that settled on her throat. She could feel Emma behind her, the warmth of her and the steady beat of her heart. "You loved your brother."

"I did."

"Then I understand the choice you made. It wasn't really a choice."

"No, it wasn't. But I am sorry."

"Losing someone you love, it can make you do unspeakable things…"

Whale only nodded. It truly could.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Blue was waiting for Emma and Regina by the time the school bus delivered them to the mouth of the cave. She had the vial of fairy dust in her hand and a softly concerned expression on her face. It pinged Emma's radar immediately, that there was _something wrong_ but she couldn't put her finger on it and Henry was just there and he wanted to stay and she was just feeling lonely enough, overwhelmed enough to want Regina for herself for one night, to want the warmth of the skin and the recondite places of her body, her sighs of pleasure in her ear. She turned Henry to her and knelt in front of him. "Kid… I just… look, I need to talk to you mom. We need to work a little on what I'm going to say tomorrow…"

The fairy took off Regina's collar under Henry's watchful, steady gaze and motioned her to the cell. Henry lowered his eyes to Emma. "Memma, it's okay. You don't need to lie, though. You want to be alone with mom tonight, right?" The cell door closed, the usual sound of metal melding together with a whoosh. "What the hell is she doing?" Emma stood abruptly. "Hey! Open that. I told you that I was gonna stay the night. Open it!"

"Your highness, be reasonable. You know we are running out of dust!" She swirled the vial right in Emma's face but her eyes were set on Regina alone, on her reaction, on the rush of air leaving Regina's lungs, on the color draining from her face. On how immensely satisfying those two tiny little things were.

Emma wasn't a total disappointment either, the quick glance she stole at her _lover_, the quick lowering of the eyes in _defeat _and _acceptance_. It was _lovely._ She couldn't help it but to rub a little more salt on the wound. "Surely it would be a waste to squander it on a whim, your Highness."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

It was Henry that pushed the fairy away. It was Henry that reacted and told her good night and Regina was so, so proud of her son. "Emma?" she asked when the fairy turned on her sensible heals and walked out of the cave, leaving behind her the rancid smell of despair.

Emma took a few extra seconds to turn to her, just enough for Regina to know that there was something wrong. "What is she talking about?"

"The dust. We only have enough for one more day."

"Oh Emma…."

"I know. I know. I should have told you before. I just… I couldn't bear to put that one more thing on your shoulders. Not when there is nothing we can do about it."

"So you do it alone…"

"I'm not sorry. You didn't need to worry about this as well."

"Emma, please don't make any decisions about me without me. Please. That's all I had all my life. No more, please. Not from you too."

"Regina, I_"

"I would much rather you had spent the night with me. You must know Emma, there is no way this will end any way other than_" Emma placed her hand over Regina's mouth

"Don't say it. Please don't say it." Regina shook her head and kissed Emma's palm.

"I'm sorry, Regina."

"You're an idiot… sometimes…"

"Good thing I never pretended to be otherwise."

"Stay with me."

"You could not make me go anywhere."

"You guys did not forget that I'm right here, did you?" Henry stood next to them, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Don't worry. I called Grandpa and he's gonna come and get me in about five minutes. I'm sorry you did not get to spend the night… cuddling." He blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. "Can I get a kiss goodnight, mom?"

"Are you sure you're not too old?"

"No. I want a kiss goodnight from both my moms." He approached the bars first and slid his arms around Regna's waist. "Good night mom. Love you." And then he turned to Emma and handed her the burns cream. "Mom needs this, Memma. Make sure you put it on her. Love you."

"Love you too, Kid."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

James dropped off pizza when he collected Henry. It made Regina salivate in a manner that was unexpected to her. She was standing trial for her life and this was the time she had picked to discover the simple pleasures of life. She devoured her pizza sitting Buda like in front of Emma, the bars between them. Were it not for those bars that heated up under her touch and burned her, she could have believed she was just sitting in their living room, sharing pizza at the end of the day and that was a good feeling. Bad timing, but good feeling.

She was on her fourth slice- four more that she had ever indulged when Emma produced the burns cream. "Do you want to talk about why you need this now or later?" Emma was just sitting there, mirroring her position but not eating, apparently, just looking at her.

"No…"

"No? What about the lecture of half an hour ago because I did not tell you about the fairy dust?"

Regina had the good grace to look chastised. She finished her pizza- and not just to gain time- and avoided Emma's eyes. "That was different."

"I don't see how. You made a decision without talking to me. Repeatedly."

"I'm not used to including anyone in my decision making process."

"Yeah, I noticed that. But you sat there, day after day with that thing burning through your skin and you didn't tell me anything."

"What would the point of that be?"

"For her not to put it on you. Tomorrow when she comes in with that shit, I'm gonna shove it_"

"Tomorrow when she comes in with it, you are going to let her. It's one more day Emma. The last day. We made it this far. Don't give her reasons to complicate your life."

"She can damned well try."

"I love the feistiness, Emma. It's good look on you. But please."  
"How can you ask me that?"

"With small words, one after the other."

"Ah, the snarky comeback. I have to say, I've been missing it."

"Please, Emma, promise."

"Cross my heart, hope to die." Emma did a quick cross over her heart and then moved closer to the bars. "But I need something in return."  
"Everything comes with the price?" Regina was taken aback and Emma quickly put a smile on her face to smooth over the request. "Talk to them. They have heard everyone else but you."  
"I did already. Today."

"You know what I'm talking about, Regina. Explain to them why you did it. Why you cast the curse. Why here. Why them. They want to know."

"Are you sure it's them I would be telling? Not you?"

Emma run her fingers through that impossibly beautiful face and uttered softly. "I would too. I would like to know. From you, not from them. No justification, no demands. But I would like to know how you felt. Because… shit… Regina, I… have feelings for you, okay? I feel all of this for you and I don't know the first thing about you. I always had to get it out of you or others, strangers. You never volunteered anything."

"Why would you want to know, Emma? The past is better off in the past. It does not do anyone any good to drag it through the streets."

"Because of this." Emma rubbed at her heart as if it ached. "I feel what I feel not despite of what you are. But because you are all of this. Because you made it this far and you did all this. But I don't want to guess, Regina, not anymore. I want to know. From you."  
"What should I tell them, Emma? What should I tell you? That they're here because I hated Snow? What should I tell them when they ask me if I stopped hating Snow? Because I haven't. I don't know how to do it. It was all I had for so long I don't know how to not do it now." She had half expected Emma to stand and walk away. She didn't. Her hands remained steady on Regina's thighs, her head against the bars as if she had lost all strength. Regina would have done anything to make Emma feel better than this. She would have given years of her life. "I could not see the forest for the trees, Emma. Snow was getting married to her prince and then she had a baby on the way and I was alone. All alone. Cast to the side like a broken doll, my usefulness outlived. For all that she had wanted me when she was little, for all that she cost me to get herself a new mother, by then she just wanted me to melt into the shadows and disappear from her life. Her hate, my hate… they were my only connection to life. So I tethered them all to me. I cast the curse, brought us here where no one could leave. Where no one could ever leave me."

And then the tears fell and neither Regina nor Emma made a motion to make them stop. Regina cried until she was empty of it all. And then she fell asleep on the sand floor, holding on to Emma's hand, clutching it to her heart as if she would never let go.


	21. Chapter 20

**Author's note:** I have been a very naughty girl in leaving out profuse thank yous to my lovely beta MarieYotz. Without her, there would be a lot of noise in these chapters.

Much love to Marie and you all

Jane

* * *

Chapter 20

_It's not the pain coming in waves, tight and excruciating, that makes her panic. It's Emma's absence. Where is Emma? The pain she can breathe through, soft pants, huffs and whooshes with each wave that starts high in her belly and tightens downwards, making her stiffen and hold herself straight as a board. But this cannot happen without Emma here. Not without Emma. It's not right without Emma. _

_Her shoulders tense, her body prepares for the next wave of pain. She breathes through it, trying to call Emma to her. It would all be okay if only Emma was here, holding her hand, if only she could hide her face in the crook of Emma's neck and just breathe her in, that soft, warm skin and the scent of summers and wind and ocean breeze. _

_She concentrates on the memory of Emma's scent, the only one from the outside in this dark cave when the next wave of pain washes through her, like dogs, now, gnawing at her insides, tearing her apart. Where is Emma? This is not right without her. The last dregs of the pain flow out of her and she stands and holds on to the bars of her cell. It doesn't matter if they burn. She's beyond the pain of that burn now. All she needs is Emma. She murmurs softly _Emma_ and hopes the wind will carry her plea to her love. _Emma come back_ because this is not right without her and she can't do it. She just can't do it._

_She looks down at herself and her belly is distended, huge and it rumbles with life and hope. Her hand cups it lightly and travels down, softly, feeling the stretch and give of her skin under her dark clothes but the life inside shrinks from her touch like Henry used to do, disgusted by her and one more wave of pain hits then, leaving her breathless. She tries to breathe, soft, slow, deep, but yet another wave of pain hits and all strength leaves her. She slides to her knees on the earth floor, the grains of sand torturing her knees. _Emma.

_Not without Emma. _

_Maybe she can wait. Emma will be here soon. Soon. Emma will be here soon._

_But the shadow that moves in the dark cave is not Emma. It's Rumplestilskin. And then it's Cora. And Leopold. And the Blue Fairy. George. Snow. They morph one into the other and into the next and then become distinct, threatening forms. They reach out for her and the pain crashes over her once more. She closes her legs, trying to stop the inevitable. There is no way this is going to happen without Emma here. Emma will save her. Emma will stand between her baby and these shadows. This time she will get to keep her baby. But Emma must hurry. _Emma,_ her heart calls softly._

_When Emma walks in, bringing the sunlight and the freshness of the air outside with her, Regina holds out her arms to her, a plea._

_But Emma's face is closed and angry and when the pain hits again, she has no choice but to let her body do what's in its nature to do. On her knees, she feels her baby being pushed out of her and she is powerless to stop it. Emma looks at her and tells her "you brought this upon yourself, you know?"_

Oh, Emma._ "It yours, Emma. Yours and mine."_

"_Sure. No sweat, Regina. I really have the equipment for this baby making stuff with you. Do you think I'm that stupid?"_

"_Don't let them take our baby from me, Emma." and she feels her baby coming out of her. _

"_Save your breath, Queen." The fairy states from the line of observers. "You're going to need it."_

"_Emma, please." And there is nothing she can do now, except grab the baby that her traitorous body surrenders to the world. There is a wail of air rushing into little lungs for the first time and she finally gives into the now ebbing pain and cries out. She brings the baby up to look it over, to count all perfect ten fingers and all perfect ten toes but there is just so much blood._

_Snow holds Emma's baby blanket and says "Hand her over Regina. You took my baby from me, now I'll take your baby from you." She waves the blanket. "Hand her over. Give her her best chance!" _

"_Stop lying, Regina. She cannot be mine. You just had to find a way to hurt me, didn't you?"  
"She's yours, Emma, Look at her: magic!"_

"_All magic comes with a price, deary." Rumplestilskin sings from the darkness, his eyes and skin glinting in the darkness._

_Emma turns away and the shadows approach the bars, melt through them into the cell and Snow takes her baby from her arms. "Please, Snow. Please!"_

"_I'm doing you a favor, Regina. Look at you."_

_She doesn't. All she can see is her daughter being bundled up in Emma's baby blanket and taken away from her, leaving her arms empty and cold. She wants to scream and reach out but her voice is gone and her arms are useless lumps by her side. So she looks at where the shadows are looking in glee: the immense river of blood flowing out of her._

"_Emma!" She cries with her last breath. _Emma_ before everything goes dark and cold._

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Regina." Emma tried again to wake up the woman thrashing on the floor. She pulled at the bars trying to rip them from the floor. Regina had rolled away from her in her nightmare and Emma could not reach her. "Regina, please, wake up. You're okay. We're okay. Please wake up." But the more she spoke, the further Regina rolled away from her and no amount of kicking at the bars, of pulling at them or trying to squeeze through them yielded any effect. "Regina."

There were only the smallest of whimpers, a faded gasp of breath and tears. Emma would have given anything to dismember her body and pass through the bars of that cell and hold Regina to her. Anything. Then Regina stilled and Emma's name came out, the saddest sound Emma had ever heard and everything went quiet for a fraction of a second. And then Regina jerked awake, thrashing again for the bars, for Emma, desperate to find her. Emma called and called her name but it was as if the woman could not hear her from the depth she was coming from. "Regina, here, look at me. Regina, look at me. Here, I'm right here."

Regina dragged herself on the floor towards Emma's voice and slumped against the metal. Emma fell to her knees and slid her arms through the bars. "You're okay. We're okay. I promise, Regina, we're okay."

But Regina's body still ached for a baby and her heart still screamed her loss. She could hear Emma's voice. There were only sounds coming from very far, calling to her as if in a strange tongue. Emma's hands grabbed her face and there were soothing whispers against her face, against her mouth. "Yours. She's yours, Emma. Please believe me."

"I do. Regina, I do. I believe you. She's mine. I promise I believe." But Regina's hands held only emptiness and her belly was flat and empty and nothing could ever be okay again. The air hurt like knives down her throat and there were only short burning gasps of it that were not enough and tears ran hot, hot and she could not stop, not even when Emma was there, drying them, not even when Emma told her she believed her. She could only think _too late, it's too late, _and lean against Emma, the bars between them, until the tears subsided and the air did not hurt anymore and her body was as barren and as empty as it had always been.

Even her dreams were cruel.

Emma held on through the bars, kissed every little space of skin she could find and whispered nonsense words until Regina's thrashing had ceased and the tears were dried. Until Regina slept again as if she hadn't even woken up, slumped against the bars between them, her breath ragged and uneven.

Emma held Regina upright until the muscles in her arms burned in agony of the awkward position, until she feared she would let the woman in her arms drop. Then, she slid the sleeping form gently onto the mattress and draped her own blanket over Regina, Regina's own left too far by the thrashing of before.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma stood and paced the ground. Regina was strong but she should never have heard about the fairy dust. Come tonight, they would not even come back here. There was no way she was letting them lock Regina in a cave with no way out. The Prosecutor and Snow and the whole town could kiss her ass. No more dust, no more cave and they could make their peace with it. Or go to hell.

Regina was putting on a brave front but she was terrified and Emma would kill if she had to, to keep her out of this hell hole. They would not come back here tonight if she had to die trying.

She hunted her cell in the darkness of the cave and read the screen: 4am. 4am and she had only a vague idea of what she was going to say and not a clue how it would be heard. No idea how to make a compelling case, no idea how to make any of this right.

No idea how to reconcile the shit Regina had done with the person she was now and what Emma needed from her, for both of them.

She sat against the stone wall, knees pulled tight against her chest. This was a bad time if there was ever one to want her mommy, to want some comfort, because even if she had a mother now, that mother had no comfort to lend her. Emma held vigil over Regina's sleep and scribbled on the pizza place napkins whatever she could think of. She spoke no lawyerese like George. She was the queen of the inarticulate thought. When in doubt, she referred to her fists and let them do the talking and here she was now, trying to argue their way out of a death sentence.

She scribbled notes by the light of her cell screen and crossed them out again. Paced and returned to her seat. And then it was seven o'clock and Regina was awake and looking at her, quietly, an infinite sadness in her eyes.

"It's going to be okay, Regina. I'll get you out of here today and we are not coming back."

"You cannot promise things you have no control over, Emma. You cannot promise things that are unfair. All those things I did, they're done and there is always retribution. There is always punishment."

"I'm hoping for justice, Regina. It's not the same thing."

"It's a pretty thought."

"What happened, Regina? We were fine yesterday." Regina's answer was small shrug that almost went unnoticed under the blanket she was still buried under. "You had a bad dream."

Regina thought of denying it, but then Emma was kneeling in front of her and her hands were touching Regina's face, a soft touch that made everything better. She nodded, the details of the dream, the pain, the loss, her last breath all coming back to her at that moment.

"What was it about?"

It took all Regina had in her not to revert to attack when everything hurt. "It was just a dream."

"You scared me." Emma's hands were soothing and they gave her strength and the will to sit up and take in all that affection while it was still hers to have.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't. Don't say that." Emma touched her forehead to the bars and Regina imitated the gesture. With the bars between them, their skin could still touch at the gaps. It was as much comfort as she could get until the Blue Fairy came in and opened the door. Regina made a mental note to hug Emma then, to fall into her arms and stay there for as long as she possibly could because of one thing she was sure: when the dust was gone, she was never coming out of this cave. No matter what promises Emma made or in what good faith she made them. She had lived long enough to know that for people like her there was always punishment. "You don't have to be sorry for being scared. It's okay. It's just me."

Regina would have given anything at that moment to be able to hug Emma without the bars in between them. Instead, she sought Emma's mouth and kissed her, a sweet, languorous kiss as if there was nothing weighing on their minds or on their hearts, a kiss all made of affection and tenderness and faith.

"I'm not scared."

"You were last night."

"It was just a dream."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina looked in the small mirror Red had left. It was only a dream. Dream Emma was right. There was no way they could make a baby together. And there was no way she could have a baby anyway. That had been settled a long time ago, when her mother had killed her baby girl inside her. But even if it could not be real, the loss was still heavy enough on her heart and her desire for a child strong enough to make her wish to dream that dream again. To make her wish that she could see that little body again, that she could feel the warmth of that skin on hers and the way the tiny fist gripped her finger when she counted those beautiful and perfect ten fingers. Even if she died in the end. She washed her face again and dried her skin and looked at the mirror again to make sure no signs of the dream lingered on. She walked to Emma gingerly and sat again by the bars so that Emma could be close.

Emma asked _everything okay_ but she remained silent. Without waiting for an answer, Emma gave her a white cotton button up shirt. "No more turtlenecks, Regina. Your skin needs to breathe." And she took the burns cream and squeezed some onto a finger and began a painstaking process of applying it without torturing the skin around her neck any further.

"I don't want anyone to see it."

"Then you can wear a scarf. But no more turtlenecks. I'm serious."

"Okay."

"That easy?"

Regina simply nodded and rushed to button her shirt when she heard footsteps on the earth floor. Henry and James walked in, Mary Margaret's picnic basket in hand and the scent of baked goods wafting from it. Regina salivated in anticipation.

Henry put the basket on the floor and ran to hug her; James lost all resistance and pulled Emma to him, softly breathing her in. How strange life was, Regina thought. She had never quite imagined Charming as a father to a grown child. That was not what their life before had been about. But he was good with Emma. He never pressed, took what she gave him, waited patiently for the rest. He was with Emma what Regina was with Henry: a tree waiting for the caress of the wind. And then it was move, move, move again. James dragged a foldout table left by the guards outside, where numerous hands of poker had been played, and placed on it an embroidered table cloth, surely Mary Margaret's, then set out coffee and warm croissants, milk and juice.

Judiciously, Henry pulled coffee away from Regina and handed her a glass – an honest to god glass- of apple juice. He saw her swallowing the bile when she smelled the coffee. "Here you go mom. Apple juice for you." And then, before she could even enjoy it, Blue's steps rushed through the stone corridor preceded by faster, more decisive steps.

Snow's bedraggled form walked in, Blue rushing after her.

"David. Emma. We need to talk."

Behind her, Blue collapsed onto a wall, panting and clutching her hands to her chest.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Something awful happened." James first instinct was to scan Snow for injury. He took her hands and looked her over even knowing that he would find nothing to worry about.

"Snow…"

"Not me. Nothing with me. But Emma…" She pulled Blue to the front of the group. "Blue's been attacked." Both Emma and David's heads turned to the fairy. "The fairy dust was taken."

"What?"

"The fairy dust…" Snow repeated uselessly, because Emma had heard the word fairy well and clear the first time around. It was just immense horror on her face.

"The rest of the fairy dust…"  
"Yes."

Emma wanted to speak but nothing was coming out. No words. She had no words, no thoughts, only the horror of Regina's nightmare that night. She leaned against the stone wall and slid to the floor.

"Who was it?" James took the fairy by the arms. "Who was, it, Blue. Who did this?"

"I don't know. It was dark. I did not see anyone."

"Bullshit!" Emma grunted out, grateful that her voice had been lost somewhere because she could not , she would not let Regina hear this. "You're lying!"

"Emma! Why would Blue do that?"  
"She knows what I'm talking about. She knows fuckin' well what I'm talking about." Blue's only reply was to pull down the neck of the blue habit she wore to reveal the purpling hand prints around her neck.

"Why would I lie about this, Your Majesty?"

But Emma was beyond hearing anything now. There was only Regina beyond the mouth of the cave. Locked behind those bars. Alone.

Snow knelt by Emma's side and tentatively ran her hand through Emma's hair, a few strands at a time and then more, thicker and thicker locks the longer it passed without Emma pushing her away. Emboldened, Snow's hand touched her child's golden head and her shoulders. And still Emma would not push her away. "I'm so sorry, Emma."

"Do you know anything about this? Snow, please, do you…"

"Emma! No! I promise. I promise!"

Emma studied Snow. Never was she more aware that the whole lie detector thing was bullshit. Utter bullshit. The fairy, Snow, they could well have cooked up this together, to ensure Regina stayed where she was and she would never be able to tell for sure. But her mother's hand ran soft and true through her hair, her shoulders and she had waited for this all of her life. She leaned against Snow's touch and let it calm her. She let herself find her mother.

"Emma, I promise, we will work something out. I am calling the council today. I don't want to sit in judgment alone on this. We all know I am not qualified for this. That I have too much to… I'm calling the council. If it is decided that Regina can go free, we will find a way. I swear to you on all that I love that we will find a way."  
Emma looked at her mother for a moment in silence. "What about me? Do you understand that I am locked in there with her, only with bars between us? I want to sleep with her, touch her, make love to her, Snow. Those bars need to open."

"We will find a way, Emma." Emma was not quite sure what came over her then, but she let her arms reach for Snow and she let herself hug her like a small child hugs their mother for comfort and hope when the monsters come during the night. They would damned well find a way, Snow thought because her daughter needed her to. "We will find a way, Emma."

"Snow, I'll dig this cave out with own hands if I have to, but she's not staying here, do you understand me? She is not staying here."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Henry came because he knew that there was something wrong. Regina knew too. She had tried to distract him, to distract herself too, but in the end he just had to come and find out for himself. There was a moment when he actually stepped back. If went back, if he didn't see Emma crying silently on the floor, if he did not see Snow and David kneeling next to her trying to comfort her, he could still pretend that nothing had happened. He could still pretend that everything was going to be okay. But he felt, more than saw the Blue Fairy quietly leaning against a wall as if she was just soaking up the afternoon sunshine. He snuck a look at Regina. She had slumped on her cot and her head was hanging, her chin against her chest. He wanted to split himself in half, one for Mom, one for Emma and comfort them both. But the fairy was standing there, enjoying a moment. He walked to Emma on the floor and knelt before her. "Memma?"

Emma did her best to clean herself, to make herself less scary for the kid, but he was quick on the uptake. "What's wrong?" She wanted to deny, to hide it from him but his serious face told her no dice.

"The dust…" Henry did a quick study of the fairy and lunged to her. It took David's quick reaction to catch him midflight.

"What have you done?"

Blue actually took a step back. "I was _attacked_."

"Henry." Emma's voice was suddenly calm and she stood. Henry losing it like that made her step up. This was hers to sort. "Not now." Henry gave her a look that translated into _what the hell_ but he stilled to listen.

"You must tell mom, Emma."

"No. I can't. She can't deal with this now, Henry."  
"She can. She has to. You cannot lie to her. You can't decide without her again. Remember?"

Emma pulled at her hair until the pinprick pain helped her get centered and in control.

"Okay. Okay. We need to tell her. I need to tell her. And we need to do something. I want her out of here today. Not one more night of this, you understand Snow? Not a single one more."

She pulled her hair into a pony tail which meant to Henry and Snow that she was into doing mode. "I'm going to tell her and then we're going to do something about this and tonight she will be out of here." She paced while she spoke and then came to a sudden halt. "Okay." She took a deep breath and moved to the cave to face Regina.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina's heart beat unevenly in her chest. She did not need to be told that something big had happened. She could hear the hushed whispers and feel the tension in the air. And it could only mean one thing: the shit had hit the fan.

When Emma walked in, her face white and her eyes rimmed with red, Regina knew with all certainty that she was never coming out of the cave.

"I was not going to tell you. I'm sorry. It took Henry reminding me of what we talked about yesterday." Her hands closed around the bars of the cell and she looked Regina dead in the eye. "Please, I don't want you to worry. I promise you that I will sort this. I swear to you." The light of determination in Emma's eyes was a beautiful thing. Regina thought for a moment that she would have fallen in love right there and then if she was just seeing Emma for the first time now. She touched her hands to Emma's face.

"I read once that the problem contains the solution."

"What?" Regina dismissed the question with a sad shake of her head, eyes never leaving Emma's. "The fairy dust… it's gone. It was taken. Blue was attacked…"

It still hit her. She had thought she was prepared for everything. Even for this, this foregone conclusion that she would spend the rest of her life in this cave. It turned out that she wasn't. It turned out that something in her still wanted to live and still wanted to be free and to be those things with Emma. Her stomach plummeted into an icy void and her legs failed her.

Emma held her by her upper arms and slid them both to the floor gently. Then she took Regina's face in her hands and promised her softly "I will get you out of here. Tonight, we are going to sleep on the same bed and I am going to hold you to me and_" But Regina just nodded softly, sadly.

"This is the way it's supposed to be Emma."

"Fuck that, Regina. Nothing about this is the way it's supposed to be. The trial is not over. This is not over. I'll dig a way out of here through the rock if I have to, okay? Trust me. Trust me on this Regina, because our lives are just getting better. I'm not going to let anything ruin it for us. Okay?"

"'Kay." And she wanted to believe. She wanted to believe Emma with all her heart. And was afraid to believe, too. "'Kay."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Henry was crying softly by the exit of the cave. James found him there. "Hey buddy!"  
"I'm not your buddy. I'm your grandson. I'm kid. And my mom is never getting out of there and it's all Blue's fault. How can you trust her? Do something. Do something for my mom. For me. I'm your grandson. Do something for me, Grandpa. Take my mom out of there, please."

David reached out his hand tentatively, trying to establish some sort of contact, something soothing and calming but Henry jerked away from him until he simply grabbed the child and pulled him into his arms. "It's going to be okay, Henry, I promise. We just need to regroup. I'm sorry. I'm sorry this is happening to your mom and to you and to Emma. I promise you, I'm going to do everything I can. I promise."

Henry let himself be hugged then, tears running freely now. David understood then that Henry was a child, not a grown up in miniature. And a child that needed reassurance. He gave him all that he could give without lying.

And then Emma zoomed past him. "Where's your truck? I need the keys." Without hesitation, David tossed her the keys. "Where're you going?"

"Michael's. Somewhere, someone must have a power tool that I can use. Henry, are you in?"

Henry jumped at the opportunity. "Grandpa, take care of my mom, okay?"

"Okay, kid, don't worry. Emma, can I have a second?"

"No."  
"Not a request, Emma." And that was as fatherly as David ever got with his child. Emma must have been surprised too because she tossed Henry the key with a "Start it up, kid" and walked back to David.

"Are you sure about this? He's just a boy. Michael… Well… I'm not sure he has forgiven her…"  
"He doesn't have to forgive anyone. He just has to sell the stupid machine. Or I can take it from him. I don't really have the time or the inclination to care at this moment. The woman I love is in there, falling apart, so forgive me if I don't give a fuck about what he thinks. See you around, Dad."

"Emma, are you sure Mr. Tillman is going to help us?" Henry asked anxiously when she got into the truck.

"One way or another he will, Henry. I promise." And the truck moved with a squeak of tires on gravel and a screech of the gear box.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma did not park the truck as much as she tossed it into a stopped position to be able to get out. Michael Tillman raised his eyes from his welding and lowered them again, uninterested in what the Sheriff needed. Emma simply pulled the plug on the welding machine ceasing all activity in the shop though the clouds of smoke billowing from the metal continued to rise in the air.

"I need your help."

"Car problems?"

"Do you have a saw that cuts through metal?"

""Why?" And his stance was immediately defensive.

"Because I need to cut through metal. I know where to find one that cuts wood, but that one just won't do."

"You wanna bust that witch out of where she belongs."

Wrong thing to say, it seemed. Emma was in his personal space in less time than it took a match to scratch into flame. "I need a saw to cut metal. Do you have one?"

"Not for her, I don't. My kids finally feel safe. I'm not gonna ruin that for them. She deserves it."

"Not up to you to decide, Michael. The saw."

Michael moved to a cabinet holding all manners of heavy machinery. With a push of his shoulder, he closed the door and before Emma could stop it, the door was locked. "No."

Henry grabbed Emma's hand and pulled her back. "Memma, stop."

She tried to shake him lose but Henry was surprisingly difficult to get rid of. "Emma found Ava and Nicholas, Mr. Tillman and she gave them back to you."

"Because the Evil Queen was sending them out of town. It would have killed them."  
"Because you did not want them. Please, Mr. Tillman."

"Daddy?" Ava questioned from the door that connected to the house."

"Papa, Gretel. Papa. Go inside. This does not concern you."  
"Daddy. This is not home. I like Daddy."

"This is what she did to my family."

"No, Daddy. This is what Emma did to our family. She brought us together again. Hi, Henry."

"Hi, Ava."

"What happened?"

"Blue lost the fairy dust. The cell will not open without it."

"Just the way it should be." Michael pocketed the key to cabinet in his shirt pocket and made a show of buttoning up the pocket.

"I need my mom, Ava. Emma needs my mom."

"I'm not big on the romance thing, but for my money, Sheriff, you can do better than an evil witch." Henry squeezed Emma's hand just in time, his eyes solely on Ava, pleading.

"Daddy. Please. The Sheriff brought us to you. Do it for her. Please. Papa. It's just a saw."

"Gretel…" The tone was admonishing but weak. "Where's your brother?"

"Computer."

"Get him. Before I change my mind." And he took the key out of pocket and unlocked the cabinet. "Let's get going."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Power tools are funny that way. They are heavy and ungainly and Emma could not hold the saw upright or she would have done it herself, she would have cut Regina free. Michael certainly did not seem in a rush to assist. In the end, it took Ava's pleading eyes and Nicholas's innocent remark on the heroism of his father in beating old magic. Michael took the tool from Emma. "Stop dragging it. It's not a puppy." He did not spare one single look at Regina. He could not. He would not be reminded of why they were in this strange land, why his children had been on their own for almost 30 years. He released the safety from the saw and powered it, aimed it and started the task mid length of the bar.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina was on her cot when Emma and her party of saviors came in. She wanted to run to her but Michael Tillman was there, him and his resentment and it filled up all the cave. She wanted to walk to Emma and touch her just to be reassured, just to feel like herself again but Michael bellowed "Better get out of the way." He fired it up and put it to the bars. Emma gave her look of _see, we're getting out of here._

Sparks flew wild from where the saw was grinding the metal and for a moment, for a very shiny moment, Regina chose hope, hope that a tool from this world would cut through the magic of the old land. She wanted to so much because Emma and Henry were just holding hands away from the sparks, ready for the second they could push all the metal out of the way and rescue her.

But time was passing and Michel was sweating and cursing softly and changing hands as if the weight or the pressure of it was too much and finally the saw broke. It disintegrated into sparks and smoke and dust and there was not a single scratch cut into the bars. They were as untouched as they had been before Michael had come in.

"Sheriff."

"Michael, please. Try again. I'll go get you a new one."

"There isn't a new one, Sheriff. There is this one. And it's a good one. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"For you, I am. Hansel, Gretel, let's go. Your Majesty." He saluted David while he picked up pieces of the tool.

"Papa?"  
"Mr. Tillman? Is there anything, anything else that we can try?" Michael shrugged at Henry's question as if he was wholly uninterested and walked away. But before he reached the end corridor of the cave, he turned to Emma and Henry.

"Dig. I would dig. If you can't get through, trying going under."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"It's gonna be okay, Regina, Trust me."

"You keep saying that."

"That's because it is going to be okay." Emma placed a kiss on Regina's nose and made a production of kissing her cheeks and her chin until she finally settled on her mouth and kissed it gently, and then with a little more fire. "Trust me."

"I do. But_"

"No, Regina, not buts. We do this, okay? Hold the thought."

"He said to dig." David asked from his place against the wall.

"Yeah. I'll go and get an axe or something."

"I'll go one better. Let's call the dwarves." And he took his phone and walked out of the cave.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Nova paced the walls of the convent. Something was not right. Something was very wrong. She was back at the convent, her habit tighter than it had ever been and the sore spots on her back where she was sure her wings wanted to come out were numb as if a mad dentist had anesthetized it. And she could not remember. She pulled at her hair. She could not remember. And it was making her want to put a sharp pen through her brain and pick, pick pick at it until whatever it was that she wanted to remember came out of where it was locked in her head. The last she remembered, she was sitting in the court room. She was sitting there where Mother superior could not see her and she was listening to them talking about… what were they talking about? Who? It was about someone.

If only she could remember. But the habit was tight, so tight like a straightjacket and she could not breathe let alone concentrate on remembering. She pulled at the neck of it and gained an inch in give of the material. It was not enough. Her body struggled to get out of it. She was breathing heavy pants and sweating and it was as if the habit was actively gripping at her body not wanting to come off. And all she wanted to do was scream. Tears threatened. If only she could remember because it was like whatever she could not remember was making her swell up and her skin was about to burst and it hurt. The more she tried to remember the more it hurt and still she could not stop.

Nova stumbled through her spartan room and her finger touched something cool and metallic and it was as if it would offer her respite. She grabbed at the scissors and that need to stab her own brain to make the memory came out was overwhelming. She could feel it, the relief of that blade going in through the gray matter in her head and extricating the memory. It was all she could anticipate, how good it would feel. Her fingers griped the scissors and for a second she contemplated the glint of the sharp blade. Funny, she could not remember having scissors in her room. Her room had nothing but a bed, a rosary and white underthings in a drawer.

The habit constricted her chest, her movements, her sanity. Grabbing the scissors, Nova jabbed at the skirt. Not her head. Just the skirt because the sun was bright outside and there were gulls cawing in the air as if a storm was coming and they could see it rolling in. She jabbed at the skirt and ripped instead of cutting, the blade dragging through the wool of the habit releasing her from its confines and all she could hear was the ripping sound and how it freed her and how she could now breathe.

When the habit lay in shreds at her feet, Nova could finally draw breath, deep satisfying lungfuls of it. She sat in her undergarments on her cot and tried again to release the memory in her head but it bounced against her skull, never quite defined, just a blur of pain the closer she got to remembering where she had been, what she'd heard, what she'd seen.

She looked at herself, at her legs, at her arms, her hands and it was as if they did not belong to her, as if they were strange appendages clustered to her, useless and meaningless. Then she looked at her back. She twisted her body as much as she could, trying to see the wings she was sure would be there. They had to be there. Because the wings were the only things she knew for sure she wanted and needed. But her eyes could not see her back and her arms could not touch it and whatever feeling she'd had there was numbed and it felt like only a hole, an empty hole. A fundamental part of herself missing. She needed a mirror. She needed a mirror in a convent.

She felt tears pricking at her eyes then because she was naked in a convent in a body that did not belong to her with a feeling that she was supposed to have wings and she was losing her mind. Naked.

The gulls outside cawed and flew by her window and the sun reflected of the ocean and they had wings. This was all messed up. She was messed up.

She remembered the collection of clothes for the poor that never seemed to exist but in name and concept. She ran to the office where they were kept. In her undergarments. God she was losing her ever loving mind but the pain in her head throbbed every time she thought about whatever memory she had lost and there was nothing she could do but get out. She dug through the piles and grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater. She held them to her like a life buoy and quickly slid into them. She could hear steps squeaking down the linoleum corridor and they could be the mother superior. Her brain stopped for a moment. The mother superior was her last coherent memory. A shiver of dread ran through her veins, freeing her brain.

She opened the window and jumped through it because there was a feeling in her that it was a bad idea to stay.

She ran through the woods of the convent until she reached the pier. Barefoot. Oh she was barefoot and her feet hurt. What was she even doing here? The gulls cawed overhead, free. The fresh air cleared her mind and again she had a half memory of mother superior walking in the woods. And the then there was only blinding pain again.

Nova collapsed under a bright sun and a flurry of gull feathers.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

It was almost cartoonish the way the truck came to a halt. Leroy had put the pedal to the metal like a pro when he saw Nova collapsing. The other dwarves were left gawping as Leroy ran with his short legs to pick up the woman on the floor.

Bless Leroy, he did not waste time. He picked up the woman and shouted "scotch" and got into the back seat of the truck with her in his arms. A quick shuffle of stocky bodies and more room was created for him and his cargo. "Well, what are you waiting for? Drive"

"Hey, isn't that a nun?"

"Yeah." Leroy looked her over and tried to find something wrong with her. He expected bleeding or bumps, bruises or anything, anything at all. Maybe she'd just had an episode. Girls did that. They had episodes and they fainted. Maybe it was because it made them so kissable. Sort of like an adaptation to the environment or something. God, he just wanted to lay one on her.

"Are we there yet?"

"Yeah!" Dopey cried out in satisfaction at the crunch of gravel under his tires. "Let's go, boys!" and picking their axes from the bed of the truck they all- with the exception of Leroy, marched into the cave. Leroy was at a loss as to how to even get out with Nova still in his arms, passed out. He tried to slide her into the back seat and she opened her eyes at that point, right when he was so close to her.

"My head hurts."

"You were passed out on the pier"

"Where are we, Leroy?"

"The mine. Your bestie lost the fairy dust and now my girl the sheriff cannot get her woman out. We're gonna dig her out."

"Okay…"

"Will you be okay here?"

"Can I go with you?"

"Come on then. They're having all the fun without me."

It was a party by the time Leroy made it, Nova in tow, still unkissed. He took his axe and joined the others digging by the bars of the cell. If he could not kiss, he would dig. Because that was what dwarves were made for. It soon was apparent, however that the axes were wearing out and the rock could not, would not yield. Snow looked at the axes worn to the wood handle. "But these mine for diamonds for fairy dust. They are harder than the hardest substance on earth."

She studied Emma, holding a brave expression on her face. Her heart broke anew seeing her daughter trying to be brave for Regina.

"Let's blow this." Dopey hazard. "I'm sure there is still some dynamite from when we exploded this place when the boy fell and was trapped here"

It was a bad thing to remember. Regina's air seemed to have been punched out of her and she was left hanging on to the burning bars to hold herself up in front of all these people. Emma touched her hand in support and got only a feeble smile and a sigh in return.

"You moron!" Leroy commented. "We explode the bars with dynamite the whole mine will_"

"No one is exploding anything at all!" The Prosecutor made his way into the cave. "The trial is not finished. We do not yet have a verdict. And by the way things are going_" He looked pointedly at Snow and James both with axes in their hands, "I'd say there's reason to believe an appeal might be in order. Maybe even a revolution."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow's body reacted before her mind. She lunged towards the prosecutor - or would have, if David had not held her back - his hands squeezing her arms none too gently. "She is entitled to be there for any judgment. And as you said, the trial is not over. She deserves to be there."

"She deserves _nothing_ but her head buried one hundred feet from the rest of her, but if that is the only objection you can come up with, then, by all means: if Mohamed cannot go the mountain, than the mountain must come to Mohamed." And the challenge in his eyes was obvious. Just begging for a punch, Emma decided. But James was stock still and he had Snow in a vice like grip and there was something that she was not getting so she did what she always did since she first was aware that she did not understand the world around her: she kept absolutely quiet to the point of invisibility.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"What the fuck was that all about?" Emma exploded once the roar of the Prosecutor's car stopped echoing in the cave. David and Snow lowered their eyes and did that thing they did that Emma hated that excluded everybody else from their bubble. They knew something. "What!"

Regina's hand on hers was soothing. "He has just threatened your parents with a revolution."

"Let him try."

"Emma, you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. So why don't you tell me in tiny little words, huh, Madam Mayor?" To her credit, Regina did not flinch but it was Leroy that spoke.

"A lot of people will be on his side, sister. Enough to take up weapons and fight for his old throne. He wants it bad enough and he is snake enough to get more support. Especially if he goes about saying that Snow is on your girl's side. People are not very forgiving."  
"Let him try." Emma's face was mutinous and angry. "Let him try. What's the worst that can happen?"

"Yeah!" Leroy quipped. "Come on, Snow, what's the worst that can happen. We defeated him once."

"We can do it again" Dopey completed and all the dwarves responded with what to be a war cry.

"And then what?" James asked, and instantly the blood thirst simmered down. "Blood on the street? Just because you survived it once, are you ready to risk it again? Are you ready to risk Nova? Henry?"

"So what? Do we just stay here, cross our arms and do nothing?" Henry spoke up. "Do we just leave mom here?" The silence was answer enough for Henry and Emma.

"No, I won't have it." And Emma checked her gun with shaking hands and headed for the exit. "Henry you sat here with your mom and you wait for me."

"Emma!" Regina's tone was imperious and the face serious and it made Emma look back. "Absolutely not."

Emma was not quite sure what made her stop but all fire in her died down at Regina's objection. The light of battle dwindled and she returned to Regina, held her hands. "I can't, Regina. Not one more night. I promised you."

"For once, Emma, please listen to me. It's one night. Tonight."  
"You don't know that.

"You're right. I don't. But I have enough blood on my hands. Don't make me responsible for more. Don't make me responsible for yours."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Come on, sister, we'll drive you back to the convent."  
"No!" Leroy looked at her confused. "Please don't take me there, Leroy."  
"Why?" Nova was not sure about why, just like she was not sure why she was wearing donated jeans and sweater that were three sizes too big for her but there was an urgency about not going back to that place. "Where should I take you, then?"  
"Can I stay with you?"

_Oh boy!_ Leroy wanted to scream _yes_ but the fairy's eyes were still glazed over, a dim film of confusion and he was not that guy. There was also the small matter that he had not forgotten about Firefly Hill and he wanted nothing but not to have to relive his decision every time he looked at Nova.

"My place is the size of an egg, sister."  
"And it smells like a rotten one." Doc commented from the front seat.

"Why don't we talk to Granny. She'll look put you up in one of those fancy rooms."

Nova was not quite sure why she felt such disappointment. She should have known better, after Firefly Hill.

"Thank, you, Leroy." Nova leaned her forehead against the windowpane and concentrated on the dark landscape going by under the tires of the truck and fought the wave of nausea and loneliness.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow's call came right after Leroy had left Nova and a piece of his heart at Granny's. Ruby had been a pal and came up with some clothes for Nova. Neither Granny nor Ruby has asked much except for whether she was hungry or if she wanted to have a shower. That _so why are you leaving the convent_ remained unasked.

They spoke briefly, long enough only for Snow to ask him to paint a sign explaining that the court would reconvene at the mine, and for his brothers to organize for three desks to be loaded into the truck ready for the following morning.

Then, because he could not sleep, Leroy pulled his hat firmly down his on head and went for a walk and either Storybrooke really was small or he ended up doing three passes by Granny's in his attempt to walk off the heartache and the frustration. On this third pass, he finally understood the pattern: Jefferson walking into Michael Tillman's shop. The Prosecutor coming out of the shop through the house side. Sidney coming out of the same door.

The Prosecutor walking towards Gold's shop and going in.

_Oh, hell's bells!_

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

After Snow, James, the dwarves and Nova had made their way out of cave, the mood was gloomy at best. Regina, Emma and Henry huddled together by the bars, touching hands, unable to voice the worst of their fears. Around them, dust and soot from the saw and the axes were stark reminders of the seriousness of their situation.

"Okay, enough with this." Emma stood and paced. "We may be stuck here for now, but I'm not gonna let that bastard ruin it for us. I'm gonna get some food, some drinks and we're gonna have a picnic. What do you say, Henry?"

She almost didn't. Regina almost didn't beg, but that's exactly how it came out. "Please don't go. Please don't leave me." Then she realized what she was doing. The enormity of it sunk on her like a tone of sand, suffocating her. This was her reality from now on. She was in here. Henry and Emma were outside. Why should their lives be placed on hold just for her? "I… No. Sorry, go…" Emma studied her in that way she had that seemed to be looking straight into her heart or her brain and returned to her seat. Emma's hand cupped her cheek lightly and her thumb did a lazy circle motion on that skin.

"Alright. But Henry needs to eat, so I'll just call Ruby or David and get us something."

"Actually," Henry grabbed his backpack and rummaged through it, "I have a picnic for us already. I thought mom was gonna need this because she hasn't been feeling well and then she didn't need it, so…" He produced a bottle of ginger ale and a family pack of saltines. One more pass through the pockets of the backpack produced two Apollo bars and a bag of M&Ms. He looked sheepishly at Regina with each candy produced but she was only smiling and there seemed to be no telling off in the cards because of all the processed sugar in his bag. Still, he found he wanted to justify himself. "Emma likes candy."

"Hey! Snitch!"

Henry unrolled the mattress on the floor as close as possible to the bars and set out his feast. "What do you think, mom, is this okay?"

Regina only nodded, unable to push words past the knot in her throat, tears threatening again.

"What does he mean, you haven't been feeling well?" Emma questioned as she put her hand to Regina's forehead, trying to gauge any sickness or disease. She couldn't even begin to imagine what they would do if there was an emergency where Regina needed a hospital or a doctor She had been cooped up in here and all the stress, and Emma would not be at all surprised if that was the case. Regina had been throwing up regularly and there were dark circles under her eyes and, god, the fainting the previous day, and had she been so stupid that she had missed Regina being sick? She had a heart in her chest now, and god only knew what Cora had done to it and what if she was sick? What was she to do? What could she do with the bars in between them? "Regina, please, tell me. Should I go get Whale?" And she was already on her feet, ready to go.

"Emma, it's just a stomach flu. Probably all the fried food and David's cooking. Don't worry. Henry, thank you for the saltines." She took one and nibbled lightly on it. She was not at all hungry but there were two people in there that needed reassurance more than anything else.  
"Mom used to give me saltines and ginger ale when I was little and didn't feel well."  
"Yeah. I lived on that for the first three months when I was pregnant with you." She took a saltine in her hand and crunched on it. "Hey, they still taste the same. Like dry straw. Pass the M&Ms, please."

Regina snorted. "The diet of champions."

"Hey, don't knock it you haven't tried it. Here, have a saltine, baby."

Regina gave her a baleful look but it was laced with wonderment and despite her best efforts, it made her tear up again. She would have to get herself under control. "I'm not sure I like the endearment."  
"Sure you do. You just need to get used to it."

She wanted to. She really did. But what right did she have, now that this_ situation_ seemed to be permanent? And still, it was a nice thought. "I just might."

.

.

Henry fell asleep with his back against the bars, Regina stroking his back softly as he did not seem to mind the contact but rather, welcome it. "You should sleep, Regina. I don't like the look of those bags under your eyes." She pulled Henry into a laying position and covered him with a blanket, then sat at his feet. Regina slid closer to her.

"I'm not sleepy."

"That sounds like something Henry would say." Regina smiled, something small and hesitant. "Is it the nightmare? Are you afraid you're gonna have it again?"

"No. It was just a dream."

"It didn't look like it was _just_ anything. You need to sleep, Regina. You can't get sick. Not now. I…" Emma pulled at the bars because she could not utter the words. She could not make it even more real than it already was.

"I'd rather you kiss me." Regina laid her hand on Emma's leg and the signal was unmistakable, the need, the hunger, the desire. This was not how this night as supposed to go. In her head, Emma had, naïvely, of course, imagined they could spend the night in a proper bed. Where, she was not sure. Regina's house had been all but ransacked and devastated and her bed was in Snow's apartment. But she had wanted nothing beyond a bed with a soft mattress, plump pillows, clean sheets and thick blankets. Maybe breakfast in the morning. Kissing Regina through the bars was not in that life plan. But when had her life turned out like she hoped? Now, though, it hardly mattered. Not when Regina's skin was so soft against her, nose to nose, lip to lip. Her mouth opened and welcomed Regina. A feisty Regina, a feisty kiss where there was hope and resilience and promise. Oh what a kiss that did things to her body, to the core of her and flooded it.

"I swear I can get creative even with these bars, but Henry is right here…" Emma whispered.

Regina's sigh was ragged and still her mouth could not let go of Emma, peppering little wet kisses, teasing, playful ones. Emma's hand rose from Regina's thigh up, up her waist, her ribcage, her breast. Emma cupped that breast and her thumb found and played with a nipple, happy when it responded to her, stiffening, causing Regina to gasp and push forward into her hand.

"Yes, Henry is right here…" Regina whispered but she did not so much as spare the child a look, completely in the moment with Emma. She took Emma's left hand and slid it up her thigh, pressed it against the vee of her legs, pressed it there and danced against it, breathing harder and harder. "Emma…" And her sweet breath caressed Emma's face, Emma's mouth and made her wet in a way she had never experienced before from a simple touch, certainly never with her clothes still on. Her hands pressed Emma's against her, one at her breast, the other at her center and her whole world was only those two fingers. "Please… Emma…" But she wasn't even sure of what she was begging for. Her breathing lost all rhythm and all depth as she gasped for air.

"Look at me, Regina." Emma's voice reached her from far, far away. She opened her eyes and Emma was there, an inch away from her, her green, green eyes sparkling in the semi darkness. "Can you come for me? Can you come for me like this?"

_Oh, god. Yes._ Just as long as Emma kept on rubbing her thumbs over her like that, on her breast, on her clit, just like that. She closed her eyes and nodded but Emma commanded again "Open your eyes, Regina, look at me. I want you to be looking at me when you come." She could not have closed her eyes even if she wanted, prisoner of Emma's will. She squeezed Emma's hands and the pressure increased on her center and her nipple was pinched even through her shirt and when the tendrils of sensation, the one at her clit and the one at her nipple combined and reach each other, her body spasmed and she came, her mouth opening to let out a scream. Emma covered her mouth his hers and drank in that scream. "Shh, shh, god, Regina, you're beautiful. Look at you. You're perfect." And she kissed Regina until the woman's breath slowed and evened, until the sweat dried on her brow.

.

.

Regina slept then. She nestled next to the bars, next to Henry and after adjusting his blanket, she lied down with a sigh. Emma couldn't sleep. Her fingers touched the debris on the floor, the shavings of metal she was not sure came from the saw or the axes. No fairy dust, no non-magic way to open the bars. Maybe it was time to see a dog about a man. Or, at least, to see Gold about these bars.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Leroy was the first one in. He called softly "Hey boss, you decent?"

Emma stood and walked to meet him outside in the corridor. "What's up?"

"Court's gonna be here now. Snow had me come over and bring a couple desks. Everybody else can just park it on the floor or go elsewhere for a day's entertainment. But you better get your ass into gear, boss, because that snake's gonna be here any minute now."

Emma snorted. It never rained but it shit stormed. "Give me half an hour, Leroy. Be a pal and don't let anyone in."

"You got it. A friend should be in any minute now with coffee and breakfast."

"A friend?"

"Nova."  
"A fairy? Leroy… I…"

"Nova. She quit the convent, alright? Something's not right with her but she's not like that other one, okay?"

"Kay…"

"Half an hour, boss."

.

.

When the Prosecutor arrived, Leroy was just bringing the desks in. Snow walked in with James seconds later, having ignored every speed limit once she saw the Prosecutor's car going down main towards the mine.

Leroy gave her a look that told her that they needed to talk but she was not going to leave Emma alone with George, not when her daughter had her fuse shortened by an arm's length. Leroy made a show of spit shining the Prosecutor's desk and was satisfied by the look of distaste on the man's face. Immediately, the Prosecutor took his seat and Snow sat at her desk. The first few citizens were arriving and finding spots against the wall. The Prosecutor made a show of bowing to Regina and Emma.

"As promised. The mountain comes to Mohamed."

Regina's back straightened then and she curtsied to him, all mockery and defiance in one single gesture. "Welcome to my home."


	22. Chapter 21

**Author's note:** sincere apologies- these chapters are growing with each posting. I swear I will use better sense and start cutting them down a little.

Than you to MarieYotz for her betaing services.

Much love

Jane

* * *

Chapter 21

Snow sat behind her desk. The chair wobbled on the uneven earth floor and the air was a precious commodity, breathed by too many people- and the room was not even full yet- unventilated, dark, claustrophobic. She hated it and could not wait for the moment they would call it a day, just so that she could get home and feel a warm and even wooden floor under her feet and the sun coming in through the window. Perhaps indulge in a long bubble bath.

She sighed deep and long and waited for Emma, who seemed to be locked in conversation with Regina. For a second, Snow let herself resent her former step-mother again. Her daughter was caught up in all this drama because of all of Regina's deeds, because of all of Regina's bad choices and sins. "Is the defense ready to proceed?"

Emma gave her a panicked look and turned back to Regina. To Snow it seemed that there was pleading, that Emma had said _please_ and she could only think that, had Emma beseeched her like that, she would have given her anything she wanted and anything more she could find. But Emma was saving all of those little kindnesses for Regina, and to Snow the only thing left was to try to understand and be a mother to a child she barely knew. God, she resented it. She resented every affectionate gesture Emma had for Regina. She resented that she had to try and understand when all she wanted was to punish Regina for the life Emma had lived, for the time she had missed. For the things that were Regina's to have now and not hers.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Oh, this was better than the games he used to hold back in the old land. Much as he had loved seeing soldiers fighting each other at his command, this was so much better. The new princess- and god, was that title coming down with her mother's reign soon enough- was pleading with the disgraced queen. If he was any judge- and he was- he'd say that the princess as begging her to testify. Oh, he would love to see that. He would love to destroy the queen, to bury her, word by word. He had seen enough of the queen's weak spots to devastate _her_ with one sentence- let alone her defense itself. It was a game that played itself now. Everything was win win. And with the fairy as backup? It was just gravy, as they said in this land. He leaned back and enjoyed the show, unhurried.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

David settled his long frame against the rock wall closest to the cell bars. He was keeping an eye out for Henry, for Snow, for Emma. His daughter was not collecting friendships and he felt for the Sheriff's service weapon he had confiscated from Emma the previous night. He hoped to all that was sacred that he would not need it. Regina was right for once: there had been too much blood already. Some of it already in his hands. He could do without any more. But he was worried. He was worried about Blue. Someone had attacked her and he had not seen her since Snow had driven her to the convent before lunch the day before. He was worried about Nova. Anything out of the ordinary was a worry because there were too many players interested in the outcome of this trial. And he was worried about Emma and Henry because no matter what came out of this, no matter what the council determined, the fact was that Regina was behind unmovable bars with magic a scarce resource in the hands of the fairies and of Rumplestilskin. He simply could not see this turning out any other way that it already had. And one thing he could do for Emma: he could put himself in her shoes and know that, had it been Snow behind these bars, we would stop at nothing until she was free. He knew little of Emma, in the grand scheme of things. But he knew she was a lot like him. At least on this one thing. And the way Storybrooke was now, that obsession was a dangerous thing. Very dangerous.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Regina wanted to cry. Emma was convinced that her talking to the crowd would, in some miraculous way, help her case. She did not- could not- share the optimism. She looked at the Prosecutor and knew that he was actually looking forward to her taking the stand, as it were. She could see it in his eyes that she was nothing but prey. Wounded prey. She knew all the pitfalls, all the ways he would make Emma regret having her testify. Because she would have done the same. She would have exploited any and every weakness to maximum effect.

"Regina, please. They need to know from you. They cannot keep on guessing. If they hear it from you, they will be more sympathetic. They'll understand why you did all of this. That is important."

In the end, Regina was tired of repeating the same things. Emma had gone after her tree right when they met, after one of the things she loved the most - but she did not understand, not really, to what level the Prosecutor could play that game. "No." In the end, Regina spoke with finality. No. She would not speak. No, she would not show any more weaknesses than she already had. And no, she would not expose her heart and she would not explore Daniel's and her baby's deaths to garn some sympathy. She would not explore her affection for Emma so that people could think her capable of change. Truth was, she was not sure herself she could change. She had been here since the night the curse had broken. She had not lived. She had only remained in limbo. This was her first opportunity to do the right thing. And that was not to use Emma, to use Henry and her losses. Snow was right. She had been driven to the bridge but had crossed it with her own two feet. This was the time to start paying for, as Emma put it, all the fucked up shit she had done.

"Please, Regina. For me. For Henry."  
Not fair. Not fair at all. A tear slid down her check without her even noticing.

"That is precisely why I will not, Emma."

"Because of us?" Regina added nothing but a nod to that. "I don't understand. If it gives you a chance of being with us, free from this… Don't you want us? Me?"

Regina grabbed her Emma's hair and pulled her to the bars, to her where she could kiss her. "Anything, Emma, I'd do anything but explore publically how I feel for you. I will not use you or Henry for sympathy. I need to know if I am capable of this. I never knew how to love, Emma. Not how to love well. But I think this is the way. I want to do this -us- the right way."

"Are you scared of him?" Regina looked over her shoulder at the prosecutor. "He can't hurt you. He'd have to go through me, Regina, and I'm not going anywhere."

"He can and he will hurt me. He will go through you and Henry, Emma. Through everything and everyone that I hold dear. Even the ones that I have already lost. That is the person he is. Yes, I am afraid of him. For you, for Henry. For me. I am done hurting. I want to feel something else now, Emma. Let me do this right. Let me love you well."

"You love me…" Regina smiled at how easy those words were coming now. "That is not playing fair."  
"It's not a game…"

"Okay… Okay. I'll think of something else."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

When Snow called her for the second time, Emma knew she was out of time. She held Regina's hand because she was not sure that on her own she would have the strength to this. "We're ready."

"Good. Okay. Do you want to call your next witness?"

"No. No more witnesses. Your Honor."

That seemed to take Snow by surprise. "Okay. so… Closing arguments. Is the Prosecution ready?"

"Yes, Your Honor, I am. The Prosecution's case is solid and self-evident. It requires no more preparation than the facts."

"Good." Or not. It was obvious from Snow's tone how much she despised the Prosecutor.

"Indeed. I am very keen to put this to bed. There are so many important decisions to be made about the future of Storybrooke, now the greatest menace is about to be taken care of."

"Get on with it, Mr. Spencer."

The Prosecutor paused for effect, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as if to gather his thoughts. Then he stood and walked the available expansion of the cave they were in. He walked to the bars and stood in front of Regina. "The Prosecution would like to remind Your Honor- and the rumored Council to be gathered- that the defendant is a sociopath. How do I know this? Simple. I looked it up because our world has no words for what she is except _monster_ and the defense seems to take exception to the truth. So I looked it up, the words from this world that explain what the defendant is: a sociopath. A criminal mind that is manipulative and conning, who lies pathologically, that lacks empathy, is callous in their actions, promiscuous, a parasite. Someone who is incapable of love. Incapable of remorse, shame or guilt. Someone who causes damage to the society they live in. Someone who cannot live within the rules of that society. Someone who causes harm at large to get back at a select few. Sociopath. The Evil Queen destroyed kingdoms, families, individuals- some of which, children. She murdered her lover of forty years and her father to effect revenge on a single person. Sociopath. Now she stands before you. Claiming to love one of her victims who cannot see any better. A victim so damaged that she cannot pledge her obviously loyal heart to her family and instead goes on some misguided crusade to save the one person that does not deserve any sort of salvation. The one person that should burn for her crimes.

Every once in a while, I recover memories of my youth. Memories that she took from me. Memories make us who we are, don't you think? Without them, how are we to be ourselves? But I digress. When I was very young, I went out with my father on a trip to a neighboring kingdom. Everything there was different and strange. Everything seemed shiny and bright and I ended up spending a great deal of gold coins on a fancy leather coat just because it was fashionable in that kingdom. When I got home, I realized that it was indeed a horrendous piece, poorly crafted and, generally, of appalling taste.

I bought it even though I knew better, because I was in a strange place and I got carried away. Fancies of youth, I'm sure you understand. But the reason I am telling you this shameful story is because I see it happening now. Forgiving this monster… well, it's a lot like me buying that horrendous leather coat: It is distasteful, it will cost us dearly and it's a fashion that is not of our land. Buying that coat was a mistake. Forgiving this monster is a mistake.

It is my duty to point out that mistake. It is my duty to remind those of you that might have forgotten, that we do not belong to this place because she brought us here and, therefore, the laws that should prevail are the ones of our land. Not these flights of fancy of this foreign land. And make no mistake: it is a foreign land. We are foreigners here. That barrier at the border of town makes it so. She never let this world in so it is non sequitur that, though displaced, we are not of part of this foreign world.

The Prosecution asks that our Queen, our _elected_ Queen, do what she was born to do, that she has the backbone and the strength of character to do what must be done. The Prosecution, for the people, asks that a punishment befitting her crimes be delivered. So that we can again feel safe. The prosecution asks for the death of the monster. As it is our land's law and custom.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."

The Prosecutor delivered his speech looking Regina squarely in the eye. Waiting for the moment she would let the meaning, the enormity of it sink in. He wanted to see her surrendering to the hopelessness. He was done and tired of seeing her stand against him and that would stop now.

And was thoroughly disappointed.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

That son of a bitch had a date with her fist and didn't even know it yet. Emma nearly stood to make his acquaintance with her hitching fist but the sight of Regina standing tall, not letting him get a rise out of her made her think twice for once in her life.

When the Prosecutor sat down again, Regina was still standing. She looked like a tree sapling that had weathered down a hurricane, slightly bent, slightly ruffled but unbroken. Emma felt a surge of pride in her chest. She smiled at Regina, encouraging, soothing.

"Is it my turn now?" She queried the Prosecutor directly without asking it of Snow. When he nodded with a self-satisfied smirk, Emma smiled, a beautiful, wide smile that was obviously a fake. "Can I just say, Mr. Prosecutor Man, right back at you. I mean that: right back at you. I could not have put it better had I been trying to describe you in my memoire. So thanks for that." She then turned to Regina and smiled. "God, I'm nervous, you know?" She faced Snow and then the crowd. "You guys know me by now. I'm impulsive and rash… definitely not great with words. Not a sharp speaker like the Prosecutor. Definitely don't speak lawyerese. I've never done any lawyering. That makes me nervous. My own lawyer when I went to jail was a creepy little shit, so I learnt nothing there.

But, you know, since my son found me, since I came to Storybrooke, I found my mom. I found my dad. I made friends… so I guess anything can happen in life. And that gives me hope. It gives me hope that you can look past my obvious incompetence at this and see the truth.

I have a feeling that during this time we have been gathering to discuss Regina's sins and Regina's crimes and Regina's shortcomings that something got lost, you know? Something important, something fundamental and I kept trying to put my finger on it and I just didn't know what it was.

When the prosecutor was going on about his leather coat, I got it. I suddenly got it. What's been missing is empathy.

I don't think there was a chance that Regina could ever get a fair trial no matter how much we try. There is a reason why here in America they choose a jury of the defendant's peers, people who have never heard of the victims or the defendants to sit in judgment. That cannot happen here. We are living in a fishbowl. We can't get out and seek someone impartial to judge. So we can only do so much in that respect. But here's the thing: we look at ourselves in the mirror and we tell ourselves that we have been wronged. That we are the good ones. All saintly and stuff.

And that's okay. Okayish. Human reaction. But I wish you would bear something in mind when you go from here; when you, the council sit to deliberate on her fate. What makes you act as a good person? Is it that you don't kill? Is it that you don't lie? That you don't omit? That you don't manipulate or think of yourselves first above others?"

Emma stuck her hand through the bars and held Regina's hand, pulled her to the bars softly and then removed the silk scarf Regina had wrapped around her neck to conceal the burns of the iron collar. People craned their necks to get a better look and Regina shrunk into the meager darkness of the cell.

"What in us makes us good? Is it our minds or is it our hearts? What we do or what we don't do?

The prosecutor has told us a story. I want to tell you a story too. A bedtime story, so go ahead and close your eyes, for me. Go on. Nothing is going to happen. She can't get out from behind those bars that are slowly killing her. Believe me, I've tried. So go on. Close your eyes." There was a moment of suspended life in the crowd where people looked at each other, hoping to get their cue from the others. Granny held Ruby's hand and closed her eyes. Mrs. Cooke did too. Dr Hopper and Geppetto standing next to each other. One at a time, like dominoes, eyes closed, breathings slowed.

"I'd like to tell you a story about a girl. A girl with black hair and hope for the future. Go on. Picture her. Picture her smile when she thinks of the future. A home with the man she loves, the prince of her heart. The babies they will have, the things they will do together, the horses they'll raise, the children that will run around them. A future where she won't have to fear her mother. Where she won't need to pray to the fairies because she will be protected from harm by a man she loves and who loves her with all his heart.

Suddenly, a horse gets spooked. She saves a little girl from death. She tells that little girl about true love and how it is magic, the most powerful magic of all. And then she's sold in marriage to an old king for her troubles. She tries to run away because being queen means nothing. But her mother- her own mother- kills the man she loves. She sticks her hand through his chest and rips out his heart. She is left to bury him. Alone.

Then comes the marriage. She is taken to her marriage bed by a man that does not know her, does not love her. Whom she does not love. A man who feels entitled to her body, like chattel. No fairies come to her aid.

When she conceives a child, she is happy because at least that part of her dream she could still have. But the mother that sold her in marriage thinks she knows best. The baby is a girl. The king already has a daughter and does not need another. He needs a son. So her mother kills her baby inside her. And with that baby, any chance for the young queen- eighteen, she was eighteen- to ever bear children.

It seems that- that broken rag- was just the way she was needed. Rumplestilskin needed her just like that - broken, every smile erased from her, every hope systematically killed. He needed her like that because she was the power he needed so that he could find his son. So when she was not ready to be his monster, her gave her the one final push: he eliminated her one residual hope that magic- the magic he had promised her was power- could bring back her true love. He left her with nothing.

And when a genie with a wish came into her life and when she had once again hope of being free from her loveless marriage, her husband ensured his queen, his chattel, remained firmly in its place. And not even her father was strong enough to help her.

So imagine how her life tightened around her like a noose. Can you feel that noose tightening around you? Her love killed. Her child killed. Her hope dead. And her body refused to give up. Her heart refused to give up. She refused to live like all the other girls that were sold in marriage to men they did not love. She refused to live like all the other women that were married off to men they did not want; like all the other women that were taken to beds they never intended to be in just because that was the way of the land. Imagine how it felt like to be that resilient, that strong that you will not just die but are still trapped by the custom and the tradition and the expectations of others. It breaks something inside you.

So can you see her? That hopeful, innocent black haired girl, broken by her mother's will until there is not a single smile left in her, ignored by the family she married into, by the girl that chose her like you choose a doll, her body barren, her heart crushed?

Can you see her?

I want you to picture that black haired girl… Got it?

Now, imagine her name is Snow White."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The crowd remained silent though eyes snapped open and there were startled, beguiled gazes that snapped between Regina and Snow.

"That would be called empathy." Emma's voice resonated though the walls of Regina's prison, through the hearts of people standing there. "That's what's been missing all along. And that's what makes us good."

Behind the bars, Regina sat, all strength had left her. Emma saw her and understood the feeling. If her default was not to keep standing, she would have done the same. For a moment she felt like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move, unable to determine whether to go backwards or to go forward. She did not know whether this was enough of not, whether it would do them any good.

The Snow called her name. "Emma."

"Yeah?"

"Is there anything else you'd like to say? Is the defense…"

"No…" She shook her head, mostly to clear the fog from her thoughts. "No. The defense rests." And why was it that she felt like crying now? She wished they would all leave now. She wished all these people would go on their merry way and just leave them alone.

Snow cleared her throat. She needed to do this now and there was no easy way to do it. So she stood and addressed the crowd. "I thought, in the beginning, that I could do this. That I could remain objective and impartial. That I could be fair. That I could be back in the frame of mind of back then. Forgive me. That was arrogant. As we approached the end of this trial I have come to realize that am not at all confident in my own judgment. There is too much between the defendant and I… Regina and I. Too much that I would not be able to see past. I don't think that's fair. So I am opting for the fairest option that I could think of. I am reconvening the council. The decision, in the end, will be mine. Because that is in my job description. So whatever happens, let it be known now that the cost of that decision, the weight of it or the lightness of it, will rest on my shoulders.

When the council reaches a decision, we shall reconvene here and make it known to everyone. Until then… may I please remind you that Storybrooke does not exist in thin air. We need people to return to their jobs. We need bread and we need newspapers. We need doctors, fishermen, janitors, teachers. Children need to return to school and parents need to return to work. Please."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The crowd thinned reluctantly. This was the time where the _after_ began. The curse was broken, court hand been held and the criminal tried. And now it was up to them: to return to what they were supposed to live. Everything had changed. And yet, it all remained the same.

Granny bumped Ruby's shoulder and walked to the exit. "Come on, Ruby. That diner is not gonna manage itself."

"Yeah… Deputy duty this morning, though, Granny."

"Always something…."

Leroy approached Snow, Nova in tow. "Hey sister, can we have a word? Private one."  
"Huh… one of those…" Snow fidgeted  
"And better make is snappy, sister."

"Leroy, the council is gathering this afternoon. Can it wait? I would just like a minute now. Just a moment to…"  
"Sure. If you're willing to risk it."

"Okay. Are we dropping Nova somewhere first?"

"No. Nova goes where I go."  
"That's a new development. Nova, how are you feeling? Do you know what happened to Blue?"

"No. I…" The more Nova tried to concentrate on the question, the worse the headache became, to the point it was only a flash of pain that made her eyes roll, to the back of head. And then she was out and falling on the floor had it not been for Leroy who picked her up before she was down.

"Yeah, this happened yesterday. And every time I asked her about that other one, this happens."

"You don't like Blue much, do you, Leroy?"  
"Define _like_."  
"She's on our side."  
"And what side is that, Snow? 'Cause I was looking when your kid pulled the queen's scarf out. I'm no expert, but I was gonna swear that had the shape of that dog collar she put on the queen every day."  
"She had to be contained, Leroy."

"Yeah. Sure."  
"Leroy!"

"Save it, Snow. Where was she gonna go? The town is the size of an egg and no one can get in or out."  
"She could have hurt someone."

Leroy nodded sagely. "Did you know what that was doing to her?"

"No…"  
"Would you have approved it?"

"Well… no…"  
"You don't sound too sure, sister."

"Leroy… whose side are you on?"

"That must have hurt, Snow. The way it looked, it hurt like a bitch. I don't know about you, but that's not what I signed up for." He picked Nova up and carried her out of the cave.

"Come on, princess, let's get you out into the fresh air."

"Was that what you wanted to talk about?" But Leroy didn't turn back to answer.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

When Snow trailed after Leroy, the cave was finally empty with the exception of the three desks and chairs and the new torches burning on the walls, making the light brighter. Henry and David were by the wall where they had spent the morning.

"Aren't you going with Snow?" Emma queried. "Isn't the council going to do their powwow or something?"

"In the afternoon, yes. We're not deliberately delaying things, Emma. But all the members of the council have things to do and arrangements to make to be there. "  
"I didn't see Blue today."

"She was shaken by what happened."  
"Shaken?" Henry screeched. "How much you wanna bet she's lying?"  
"Henry! She is a trusted friend. An old ally and advisor. You should not say such things."  
"I can and I will when they're the truth."  
"You can't know that!"  
"I saw it on her face, _Grandpa_. I saw it. She was lying and I could tell. Why won't you believe me? Emma, come on, tell him. You have your superpower."

"Oh, kid, it was never super anything."

"Don't you believe me, Emma?"  
"I do."  
"No, you don't. But I'm gonna prove it to you. I'm gonna get her and I'm gonna get you out of here, mom. You'll see"

"Henry, please, don't get yourself into harm's way. Please do not make me worry like this. I can't do anything from here and… god, please, Henry!" Regina grabbed at the bars trying to reach for Henry, desperate to keep him with her and knowing she could not- would not- bring her child into this hole with her.

"I'll tell you what, Henry," David placated. "Let's go find her. Together. Let's go talk to her and…"

"And let her lie to you again? You'll believe everything she says."

"David… please… don't let her close to Henry." Regina was using the last shred of energy she had.

"That thing on your neck, Regina… was it her…"

Regina pulled at the collar of her shirt and tried to close it, tried to hide it from view. She hated pity and could see nothing else on David's face. Her face burned with shame and her legs were threatening to give out under her. "Don't let Henry close to her."

"She will not hurt him, Regina. She's a fairy, she's_"  
"Please, David."  
"Then tell me about that on your neck." Emma was about to intervene. She was between David and Regina and regretting having exposed that wound to the crowd. Regina had endured it for the length of the trial in order not to look weak and she had made a mess of things. Again. "Why does it look like a burn?"

"Because it is." Henry placed himself between his mother and David and pushed him further back. David allowed the child to push him backwards.

"Regina. Tell me. Please."

"Why do you want to hear it from her?" Emma spoke with her back to David, solely concentrated on Regina again shrinking into the now non-existent shadows.

"Regina!" David pushed.  
"Stop bullying my mom."

"It is a burn, David. The iron of the collar is cursed."  
"Yes, it stopped your magic."

"Yes, it did. But it did not have to burn me to do it. That was just a bonus."

"Blue said it was enchanted."

"Enchanted does sound better than cursed." Regina's voice was fading. She clutched at the edges of the collar of her shirt and held them closed.

David took a step forward, towards the bars. "Regina, look at me." He did not really expect her to comply. That was not the woman he knew. But she did. She looked at him and there was still defiance in her gaze, a pathetic little stubborn shred of defiance but it was there. And he was surprised to find that a good thing. David was not a man who appreciated change. "I'm going to get Blue. But let me tell you one thing: you are not alone anymore. It doesn't mean that I am ready to forgive and forget, but you are not alone anymore and you don't have to suffer alone."

"Don't be dramatic, Charming." Regina quipped but it lacked bite.

"I mean that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a council to get ready for." And he left, rushed but sure footsteps that reminded Regina so much of Emma. Henry followed him and for once, Regina did not worry because she could see the purpose in Charming, a purpose that was not wholly centered on Snow White and actually seemed to care about others around them.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Are you okay?" Emma pulled her chair and sat by the bars. She felt tired and depleted of everything. Regina leaned against the bars to touch her. She put her arm through it and touched Emma's hair. She loved the feel of it, the softness and strength of it. That was her Emma. She smirked to herself. _Her Emma._ (How strange to have someone to think of like that.) Her Emma was strong and brave but she had tender spots in her that bruised easily.

"Strange as it may seem, yes. I really am." Her hands pulled strands of hair to her and her fingers slid down the golden locks. And when she reached the tip of that strand, she would pick another and do the same and again and again and it soothed her. "I would not have thought, after all this time, that I would feel okay again. You must know, Emma, and you must believe me: no matter what happens now, no matter what they decide, no matter that these bars never open again, I'm okay."  
"How can you say that?" There, the little spot that bruised so easily in Emma.

"What you said… today, what you told them… never…"

"Please don't cry."

"I'm not…" When a tear slid down her cheek, Regina wiped it clean with her fingers and studied with a half smile. "Well, I guess I am. Emma… no one ever thought about how I felt. And it is a strange thing to feel happy about but I do."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow left David's truck where it was right at the entrance of the mine and walked. She needed to clear her head and needed the time to do so. She had not seen Regina's marks, but she had seen the looks on Granny and Ruby's faces, and she had seen in the way they had then looked at her for a fraction of a second that they believed she knew something about it. She had seen Henry's hurt face and David's shocked one and she could only imagine what it was that they were looking at.

No. She did not know anything about it. And no, she would not have guessed that Blue could do something like that. And she could not even believe that Blue knew what it would do. Just like she did not want to believe that this was a card that Regina had refused to play masterfully. She could not believe the best about that woman. Too many years between them, anticipating what Regina would do if given half a chance.

Nothing could or ever would excuse what Regina had done. Nothing would ever excuse her father's death. He may not have been as great a husband as he was a father, but he did not deserve to die. Graham did not deserve to die. And not even old Henry deserved that, from what little she knew of the man. The truth was, Regina may have had her reasons but nothing could excuse murder.

_Imagine her name is Snow White._

Snow felt sucker punched again. She sat on a tree stump on the road into town because she could not breathe. Regina was a murderer. They had nothing in common. NOTHING. There was no way Snow could ever put herself in Regina's shoes because…. Because… she couldn't.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Henry, I have a favor to ask of you." David buckled up and ensured that Henry's seat belt was secure before he found the courage to engage the boy directly. "I know what you believe of Blue. I saw that mark on your mom's neck. But I need to ask you to not say a word when we pick up Blue. I need you to lie to her if needs be. We need to get her to the council. We need the council to hear from her what we heard from Regina."

"Why?"

"Because, Henry, what Emma was saying about empathy is all very well, but some people need more of a push than others. We, you and me, we are going to make sure that we give them a push in the right direction."

"I'm not a kid, Grandpa. Please don't lie to me."

"Look at me, Henry. Look at me in the eye and see if I'm lying." There was a moment where Henry fought desperately to hear or see a sign of deception, David's clear gaze unwavering. Emma was right, it was anything but a superpower. But in the end, Henry chose to believe.

"Okay."

"You need to understand, Henry: Blue saved Emma from the curse. We owe her that. So I am still hoping she will show me that she didn't know what that collar was doing. But I promise you Henry, on my daughter's life and happiness, that I am prepared to see that a close friend, one that one that I trusted my child's life to, could have lied to me. Could have knowingly done something so cruel."

"And if she did?"

"And if she did, I will want to know why, Henry. So please. Promise me that we can go get her and take her to the council and hear from her there."

It took Henry a very long second to agree. "I promise."

"Okay." He turned the key and started the engine. "We do this as a family, Henry. He do it together. That's the way we're going to beat evil."

"Grandpa?"  
"Yeah?"

"Stop being so dramatic!"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The council was supposed to reconvene at the town hall, but Snow could not quite muster the strength to go there, to be there. The mayor's office was still all Regina in its clinical, grandiose décor and Snow could not quite stomach the idea of that space when they were discussing the future of the person that had made it, literally, from scratch. It felt a lot like shame.

So she made her way to school, to her classroom and sat at her desk now covered in dust that had accumulated during their three week abandonment. She felt safe here. This had always been her little haven and even with the distance that she now had from Mary Margret, she felt the love for what she did here, for the children entrusted to her, for this safe little corner of their world.

This was not the old council room with its maps and grandiose engraved table and armed guards at the heavy doors, but it would do just as nicely. She pushed tables together and cleared books and papers, drawings and pencils out of the way. If Regina had wanted to punish her so badly, how come she had been given this? Surrounded by children and a safe environment where she was happy… They hated each other so much and Regina had given her this.

She had not even asked Blue how the collar worked, how it took magic from Regina. She had not even asked if it would hurt her, if there was any other way. That collar looked so much like something you put on dog… She sat looking at the blue bird houses she had built with the children and for some reason, she felt like crying because everything could have been so different. She felt like crying because when had they, Regina and her, stopped being mother and child?

So when Ruby made her way in, in her Deputy Sheriff uniform, Snow was at once grateful for the interruption and hit by how things changed. There was no palpable difference between Ruby and Red. Ruby was still the same Red from back home, only at peace and confident.

"Have you been here long?"

"No… long enough. Ruby… I didn't…" Ruby mired her and waited for what Snow had to say but when nothing came out, Ruby sat on the small chair next to her best friend. "You didn't know that the collar would do that to her."

"No, I didn't. I… I mean… when we… with Rumplestilskin…"

"I remember. I love you, Snow, you're as close to me as any sister would be, but… when Blue put that collar on her… there were no questions asked, were there? Not just you. All of us. I mean… we all sat there, next to her- next to them- while that was happening and none of us noticed anything. So… you know… Maybe we just didn't care enough to ask those questions."  
"How were we to know, Red?"

"We weren't. Not in the beginning, anyway. But Snow, I think we just didn't want to know, 'cause… do you remember Rumple? Why not do the same? That spell that he could not move. There were no collars, no shackles, he just did not move. Why not use the same thing? I just have this feeling that, in way, we wanted to see her like that. We wanted to make sure that we were in control of her. With not a little humiliation as a bonus."

"Rumplestilskin was different…"  
"No, Snow, he wasn't. He was a cornered animal, just like Regina. Or maybe even worse. Because you knew already that Regina and Emma were together. She was not going to go anywhere. But you know what bothers me? Is that I chose not to notice anything. It was burning through her skin. I should have felt the smell in the air. I should have smelled the pain. I should have known. But I can tell you one thing now. Those bars are not the same since we had good ol' Rumple in there. They have been modified too."  
"What do you mean?"

"When Emma showed that burn today, when I couldn't pretend that I had not noticed it, I smelled it, the burning of skin. You know, there is nothing quite like that smell, Snow. It's like death coming slowly. And then I realized that I felt that smell before. When there was just Regina and me in that mine. I felt the smell of burning flesh. And for my money, Snow, the same thing she did to the collar, Blue did to the bars, because every time Regina touches them, they burn her skin."

"It's not possible."

"Henry bought a burn ointment the other day. Do you want to ask him what that was for?"

"Blue would not do that. That is…"  
"Cruel? Unacceptable?"

Snow had no reply.

_Imagine her name is Snow White._

"What's cruel and unacceptable?" Granny walked into the little school room.

"Take your pick, Granny."

"Ah, that. Now, you look at me Snow. You look at me and tell me that you had no idea of this."

"I…"

"You didn't care enough, isn't it, Snow?"

"I never thought… I don't believe Blue knows what it did. That iron."

"That may be true for the collar, but the bars? They were modified, child. Back when Rumple was kept there, he never had any problem touching them."  
"But she is one of us, Granny. She was always there for us."

Granny sighed. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, Snow, but if you can still believe that after what you heard in this trial…"  
"What does she have to gain? Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Snow, I love you as my own, but sometimes I want to smack you on the upside of the head. Switch on, will you? Have you not lived long enough to know that sometimes there is no reason for evil? Haven't you believed that of the queen all along? Maybe you are not totally wrong and some people are capable of evil for evil sake…"  
"So you're on her side."

"Don't you press me, Snow White. This is not about sides. You are not her adversary any more. Her life is in your hands. So you better get off the path of stupid, cowgirl."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Henry was proud of himself for his behavior with Blue. Though he remained stubbornly seated shotgun- when he knew very well his mother would have told him that he should have given his seat to Blue- even if merely on the grounds of age- he also remained quiet and only shot her murdering glances when she was not looking at him.

By that point, Henry had almost convinced himself that he was going into the council room and be a part of it. He would speak for his mother and would defend her as eloquently as Emma had done and it would all be okay. He was rehearsing his lines in his head when David parked the truck outside his school.

"What are we doing here?"

"Snow called the council to come here. So the question is, do you want me to drop you off at home or do want to go back to the mine?"  
"But…" Henry looked at the school building and had the measure of his misconception at that point. Of course he was not going to be a part of the council. "Here is fine."

"Hey!" David stepped out of the truck and headed Henry off. "You know better, Henry. You told me you're not a child, so here's your chance to prove it. Stop sulking. I'm sure Emma and your mom would appreciate some lunch at this point. Don't stay home alone, okay? And don't go off making them worry." Henry stuffed his hands in his pockets almost all the way to his elbows.

"'Kay…" He was about to turn on his heel and make his way home to grab something for lunch when Leroy and Nova appeared around the corner, each with shoulders shrunk and tense.

"Sister Astrid. You were not at the convent for evening meal!"

It was funny how Nova seemed to have trouble looking at Blue. Henry lost every thought of grabbing lunch and just stood rooted to spot. "Sister Astrid! I asked you a question!"

"Well, technically, that was not really a question!" Henry could not stop himself from interjecting and it earned him a concerned look from David. He should have apologized but it simply did not come out. Funny thing was, Nova looking at Blue and her eyes glazing over. Her shoulders lost all tension and yet, something about the whole thing told Henry that was not a good development.

"I'm sorry, Mother Superior."

"Go on back to the convent, Sister Astrid and may I suggest that you reflect upon your actions. You had me worried sick."

"She's not going back there. Come on, Nova, let's go in."

"I beg your pardon!"  
"Nova goes where I go. You got a problem with that?"

"Indeed I have problem! Your Majesty! The council is not a youth club or open to invitations! There is one representative for the dwarves, one representative of the fairies and the two should not mix. That's preposterous!"

Nova simply stood there, unable to move either way, neither to go to the convent nor to follow Leroy who had started to walk into the school. He looked back for her and called her but Henry could see clear as day that her eyes were glazed over and unfocused. He moved to her side and took her hand. Nova seemed to go back into herself at that moment.

"Can you come with me, then?" Henry seized his opportunity as he saw it.

"Sister Astrid must return to the convent!"

"I'll walk her there." Henry bit the inside of his cheek because he was not supposed to lie, he hated it. He hated it when his mother did it but needs must. "I'll walk her there." And in his mind he added _when I'm good and ready_ and smiled at the fairy, in a way that would not have been out of place on Regina's face.

Leroy approached Henry and spoke eye to eye. "You better know what you're doing, _Your Highness_!" Henry put out his hand and shook Leroy's when the dwarf did the same.

"I do." Leroy gave Henry a measuring look then turned to Nova.

"If you need anything, anything at all, just call me."

Nova nodded and walked off with Henry, unsure of why she had could not quite remember why it was so important not to go back to the convent. The more she tried to think about it, the more her head hurt to a point it felt like someone was scrambling her brain as if it were eggs.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow leaned against the window entranced by the blue bird houses she had placed with the school children on the trees outside. The birds sang with abandon as if nothing could ever be as important as their song. A bird flew to the window and landed on the parapet, studying her, its head tilting to one side and then the other. Snow did not move, knowing a simple shift in her position would scare the little thing away. Back home, they'd been her best friends, confidents for some reason she could not understand. David had told her back then that they recognized goodness in her. She liked that. David was a romantic. The poor little birds converged to her as if they could sense something about her. Carried her messages, reported them back to her. She snuck a look at David, sitting there between Blue and her empty seat. Patient and true. Goodness indeed.

But she knew better. She knew that an empty heart was a dangerous heart. And the stupid little birds should have known better. If they came to her out of a genetic attraction to her kindness and goodness, than evolution and survival of the fittest was a joke. They should have known that Snow of the blackened heart, the Snow that did not hesitate to try and smash one of them simply because the way the sun reflected off its deep blue feathers was too much beauty to take in. They should have known that there was a time when the simple beauty and happiness of their song had drove her to hating them to death.

And if they came because news of her kindness had not reached them, well, then they were genuinely bad message carriers. Stupid little birds. Stupid Charming, believing she could no wrong.

_Now, imagine her name is Snow White._

Not having someone you love can make you do unspeakable things. All she could feel was the emptiness, the darkness that no light could brighten, no song could fill. She had taken a broom to a bird, an axe to soldier, an arrow to a mother.

A tear slid down her face.

Oh this was all so fucked up.

_Now, imagine her name is Snow White._

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

"Well, sister, we're all here. Shall we get this show on the road?" Leroy surveyed the people around the table and crossed his hands over it because the situation required gravitas. The last time the council had gathered, there had been a distinct belligerence in the air and he was ready to swing his axe at the queen's head. He had been ready for battle let alone war, not even knowing that he could not really fight anything of what was about to happen. Mercifully, today, the Blue Fairy was sitting well away from him, tucked safely between Charming and Dr Hopper. Which was probably a good place for her to be because, though he could not quite point out why, his main urge was to pluck out her perfect coiffed hair with tweezers, strand by strand. He cracked his knuckles and rotated his neck. Snow was taking her bloody sweet time starting this shindig and he was a man of action. And men of action resent being seated between old Geppetto and young Ruby doing nothing but waiting. Especially when Nova was outside.

He was going to have to sit Nova down and try to get to the bottom of this leaving the convent thing. He tried his hardest not to think of his little boat mooring in the pier, hitching, as he was, to go on an adventure. Any adventure. _Any adventure with Nova_. He cracked his knuckles again just to be able to break the cycle of his thoughts.

"Snow, come on." Ruby was, it seemed, as impatient as he was. He patted her hand and even though she was wearing the Deputy Sheriff uniform, he could still see the Red of before, antsy from the inaction. He could also see her pupils narrowing. He knew jack shit about the phase of the moon, but he was willing to bet that the first full moon after the curse had broken must have been looming.

Now that was adventure he could get behind: roaming the woods at night, doing nothing but being free from what others expect of you. "How close is it?"

"What?" Ruby whispered back. Leroy shrugged and pointed towards the sky in a fashion that meant something like _you know, the moon_ and Ruby smiled. It made her eyes look wild and wolf like. "Close."

"How does it feel? Out there?"

"Like I am in one piece. Free."

Leroy thought again of that little ugly boat that needed more repairs than he could ever afford. Maybe it was true and some were not born to be free. Maybe some were born to be roots while others were born to be clouds. But, damn it, he was tired of being rooted to ground and Storybrooke had come to give him hope. He was trying to give Ruby a genuine smile without any envy when Snow finally broke her silence and addressed the council.

"I know this is not the whole lot of us. There are two very dear friends missing. The General and his Lieutenant are absent. They have fallen fighting the queen's troops the day the curse devastated our kingdom. But between those of us who are here I hope we can… decide on a fair outcome… You are my most trusted advisors. Together we have weathered many storms. I am hoping that you will help me reach a fair judgment…"

Snow's words fell into a void. There was a time lag where none of the members of the council spoke. It fell to Leroy; he felt to break the silence which was stretching beyond the uncomfortable now.

"Well, then, stop the grand words and let's get down to it." But even that could not really jump start events or council members into action. Just like his cry for battle had not been heeded a lifetime ago. "Oh, for the love of god! I'll tell you what I think of this mess and if you want to beat the shit out of me for it at least then we can get started. Y'all know that back there I would have been the first one to make a run for her head on a pile outside the castle gates. Back then, I was right… I think. Back then I'm pretty sure she would have skinned me if I had stood between you and her, Snow. And you know… we're family. Or I like to think of you as family... so I would have… But now, it's different. I've had time to cool off and so did she. 'Sides, It's not like she was totally unjustified or anything. Or like I don't know how it feels… Shit, Snow- pardon my language- to have your heart trampled on or so empty you're not even yourself." He directed a hooded look at the Blue Fairy and he wondered again why Nova wanted to leave the convent. "So…"  
"So what are you saying, dwarf? That we should let her walk free among us? That she should be allowed to live among good people, polluting us with her poison and her anger and her resentment?"

"Careful there, sister. You're starting to sound a lot like the Prosecutor."  
"Maybe he is right."

"Yeah, isn't he one of those that tried to kill Snow, though?"

"Just because he acted inconsiderately does not make him wrong on this matter."

"Does not make him right either." Granny looked up from her knitting but her fingers continued, nimble on the knitting needles. Her restlessness manifested in the knitting. It was a good way to stop herself from fidgeting which was not in agreement with her age. Her glasses perched at the tip of her nose defied the fairy to push the point. The fairy was wise enough to go no further.

"His name is Leroy, though. I think we should adhere to names, rather than titles." Dr Hopper spoke from where is face was buried on his chest. He owed the fairy his freedom. Even if, against his debt of gratitude, the things that Rumplestilskin and Emma had said in court were starting to make sense. He shrunk when she fulminated him with a pointed look.

"Leroy." The fairy amended and there was an undertone of bitterness to her sweet tone. "But I think she is dangerous. We have had sufficient proof that she is dangerous, unbalanced. And that the best intentions usually produce the worst results. You should know, Your Majesty. I regret bringing such a subject back to discussion but when you could have ended all of this by ordering her destroyed, you gave her one more chance. And it turned out to be the chance that ended with all of us here, exiled, lost and separated from each other for 28 years. She cannot be trusted."

"Blue… she is not an animal to be destroyed." Snow argued, her tone whiny.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Oh, she was done and tired of Snow's tender sensibilities. It seemed that she would have to forever, push everybody in the right direction. Why could they not just be the nice little puppets that they were supposed to be?

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. Of course not." And there were days like this where the sweetness in her own voice gave her the hives and a need to annihilate them all. "Nonetheless. I urge you to learn from history. You have spared her before. Look where your mercy has brought us. There is no going back. If you show her such kindness again, there is no telling what will happen, what the cost might be."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Nova was funny in that way nuns have. Or at least the nuns Henry knew from Storybrooke: she had these small but quick little steps and an eagerness about things, a happiness which was something like the happy happy cartoons his mother had let him watch when he was four and could not use the TV remote by himself. Except at that moment. Right there and then, Nova seemed to be in a sort of trance that made him want to shake her to get her out of it. They had made it to Snow's apartment and she had said nothing.

"Are you scared of Blue?

"Mother Superior? No… No… I..."

She wasn't. Sister Astrid wanted to say that she wasn't afraid, that it was not a very nice thing for a little boy to ask but, come on, what was wrong with her, her head hurt so much because it was like there was another voice coming from very deep that said _yes, yes very much so_ except there it was again, that thing that made her want to rip her skull open just so that she could make it stop.

Nova cleaned her sweaty palms on her hand me down jeans and felt bile rise within her and it hurt enough to match her headache. "I'm not feeling very well, Henry."

"Do you think it's something you ate?" Nova looked at him and for a moment she could only think that, no, that was not it, but please shut up, do not talk anymore and then Henry went and asked what she had now learned to dread. "Or did Blue do something to you?" And just as she feared, the question was like a sharp knife to her head. She swayed and fell as the world exploded into a blinding white and then pitch blackness.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

For the first time in her life, Emma had a nesting instinct. It baffled her but she had to do something while they waited away for the council to re-emerge. So she pushed the desks and two of the chairs out of the cave they and pushed at the litter with her booted feet. She had half a mind to find a broom and a dust rag when she finally managed to stop herself. This was in no way permanent. No way she should act like it because Regina was all too ready to accept her fate as it was and Emma was getting pissed off at the whole thing: at Regina, at her mother and father and at herself for not ditching all of the pretense and just… doing something.

"Stop, Emma."

"What?"

"Whatever it is that you're doing. Come, sit with me for a little." Emma took one final look at the heavy wooden desks and pulled the mattress Henry had used the previous night next to the bars. She sat, her shoulder against the bars. Regina mimicked her on the other side, a pillow between her and the bars.

"I don't like waiting." Regina smiled in understanding. "It makes my teeth hitch."

"Why don't you go for a walk? You should go check on Henry."

"He's eleven. He likes the idea that he can fend for himself."

"Well, he can't."  
"He's more your son that you imagine, Regina. He can and he does. He got Michael Tillman to come over."  
"He did?"

"Yeah. He takes after you. You should get some sleep, you know?"

"I'm not a child. I don't need to take naps."

"You're acting like one, though. Look at you. You can barely keep your eyes open. Take a nap, Regina. And then when you wake up, we'll be ready to get out of here."

Regina pulled back from her leaning position and looked at Emma, something firm and _queenly_ that made Emma shrink a little. "You understand that the things I've done, Emma, are not the kind of things you just apologize and promise never to do again. My life so far, save for very brief periods, has been as dark as it gets and my deeds dark enough to match it."  
"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I can do this. I'm prepared for it. I can be standing when they come for me, whatever they have to say. Or do. Because that's what I've always done. But not if you keep on making promises like that. Promises we both know cannot- and should not- be kept. Please, Emma. Don't work yourself up into a frenzy for a foregone conclusion."  
"But I want you out of here. I want us to… god! Do you realize the things we have not done? The things that I want to do? Without these bars between us and without the fear? I'm in here with you, Regina. I'm in here and I've had enough of prison cells to last me a life time."

"Miss Swan… You have been… amazing thus far and_"  
"Is that like a default position with you? I piss you off so you go back to Miss Swan? Christ, Regina… do me the courtesy of using my first name. Please."

"Emma, then. Emma. The things you have done for me… in such a short time… Do you understand that I lived a very long life without anyone ever doing a fraction of what you have done for me in the last what? Month? You have done more for me in this last month than I've ever had from everybody else around me my whole life. But that should not… your feelings should not… You need to be reasonable, Emma. What do you think it's going to happen? Are we going to be pen pals for the rest of my life however long that might be? You heard the prosecutor asking for my head. Don't be stuck here with me. You have done more than enough saving for one lifetime. Don't be greedy now."

"You're doing it, aren't you?"  
"What?"  
"That best chance crap."  
"Crap?"  
"Crap. Henry told me what that bitch told you."

"Henry really must learn some discretion."  
"And you should learn to have people on your side."

"Emma, please, be reasonable."

"I don't want to be reasonable. I have used all my reasonableness for this effin' trial. I am done with reasonable. Now I just want out of here. Okay, prison time. We can do that. We can have conjugal visits and I can pass you shiv on a cherry cake, go to parole hearings but not this. Not this. I am done being reasonable."

"You need to get laid."

"Yeah, badly. But unless we get you out of here..." Emma let the thought hang in the air and Regina relented then. Mostly because it fed her ego in a way that nothing else ever had. And she was tired. Bone deep tired. She leaned against the pillow again and felt the comfort of Emma's presence. She wished she could be less selfish, she wished she could shoo Emma away just so that whatever sentence they passed did not have to be for both of them. But the trouble was, her nature made it very difficult to be selfless. And to fight against herself and Emma was something she did not have enough energy to do. "Sleep, Regina."  
"I don't want to."

"You're afraid of the nightmares." She did not answer. There was no point lying to Emma. "Sleep. I'm right here. If it comes again, I'll wake you up. I promise." Carefully, Emma pulled the pillow between Regina and the bars and set it on the mattress. Regina curled into a tight ball and Emma covered her with the blanket. She smoothed out locks of hair from an oddly serene face and managed not to show any surprise when Regina held on to her hand. Sleep conquered the woman faster than Emma expected possible, her breathing evening out and her chest raising and falling softly. Emma leaned against the bars and watched over that precious sleep. When the thrashing started and when the breathing became pained ragged huffs of breath, Emma was there to sooth her sleep.

.

.

_She stood and paced. The pain abated when she walked the short length of her cell. Soon, she had the rhythm right. The pain hit, she would stop, hold on to the bars and breathe through it. A few more paces- increasingly less, she noticed- until the pain hit again. So she would stop and hold on to the bars and breathe through it. And then again. And again. The cycle was tightening, less paces between each wave of pain. And all she wanted was Emma. She wanted to bury her face on the crook of her neck and breathe her in because when she did, things had way of becoming better, less fraught, less threatening._

_But Emma was gone and she was in here. Alone._

_Pacing, she ran her hand through her belly because it felt less lonely when she did. Soon. The baby would be here soon. And then she wouldn't be alone any longer. Again: stop, hold on to the bars, breathe. And pace again. Very soon now. _

"_You can't keep her, you know?"_

_She knew. Of course she knew. Snow would never let her keep her baby. Retribution, it was called. "You took my baby from me, so I'm going to take your baby from you."_

"_Emma won't let you. She won't let you take our baby from us." It was token resistance, nothing more._

"_Don't be silly, Regina. Why should Emma care? Hasn't she saved you enough?"_

"_It's our baby. She won't…" Stop the pacing, hold on to the bars, breathe through the pain. Resume pacing._

"_She doesn't believe you, Regina. Why do you think she's not here? You've hurt her again. Haven't you done enough of that from the moment she was born?"_

"_It's true! Why doesn't she believe me?" Stop the pacing, hold on to the bars, breathe through the pain. Resume pacing._

"_She doesn't. It's time, now, Regina."_

_No. No. No. She crossed her arms protectively around her belly but there was nothing she could do. Her baby was coming and Snow was going to take her away. She fell to her knees unable to stop it. And Emma was not here. She wanted to scream but no sound was coming from her throat._

_Snow materialized inside her cell and helped her lay down. "It's time, now, Regina."_

"_No, please, Snow. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…" _

"_This is the price for redemption, Regina." _

"_I'll be good, Snow, I promise. Please." _

"_Yes, you will. But no one cares anymore. Now be a good girl and push."_

_She did because there was nothing else she could do. And then the baby was out, a squirming little thing that Snow bundled up in a cloth and held to her, rocking the baby gently until the crying stopped. "Huh… she does not look a thing like you. There is hope for her."_

"_Her? It's a girl…"_

"_Isn't that appropriate, Regina? An eye for an eye…" And Snow's form dissipated in the air, taking with her her baby. Her baby girl. And when Snow was gone, she was alone in the dark. Dying._

.

.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't just sit and wait for whatever her parents in their magnanimity would see fit to do with Regina. She was done with expecting the best out of these people she barely knew. She was done with it all and she was going to take matters in her own hands. She was going to get them out of here and pack their shit and just ride the bug until that little piece of crap that was the only possession she'd ever had to her name dropped dead by the side of some godforsaken road. She was going to take her kid and the woman she… the woman she, well, fuck, she was going to take Regina out of here and stop moving only when they got to some shore with palm trees on it and it was summer all year.

And then miss what she'd found here. Shit.

But Regina was whimpering _I'll be good. I promise _and Emma could all but smell the fear from where she was standing, trying to get some bars on her phone in this god forsaken mine and she'd just about had it. She couldn't. This was not what she had signed up for. She adjusted the ratty blanket around Regina's unquiet form, smoothed the hair out of her face and whispered quietly, _shh, I'll make this shit go away_ and then stood and marched outside where she could get some reception on her crappy phone.

"Mr Gold? Yeah… I know it's early… or late but I need a favor."


	23. Chapter 22

**Author's note:** I am so sorry for taking so long to post this chapter. I can only say that, when life gets in the way, there's no budging it. We are now on the final stretch of this story. It will not be long now!

Thank you to MarieYotz for her betaing services and for being, generally, lovely.

Much love

Jane

* * *

Chapter 22

"But you have magic!"

"And you have your mother's whiny tone, Miss Swan." The voice came through the receiver, crackled and metallic.

"Gold! Please."

"May I remind you, Miss Swan, that you owe me a favor that I am yet to collect. Not the other way around. And I am not in the habit of extending credit."

"You can't do this. You know why she's here. You owe her. You. Owe. Her." Emma punctuated each of her words with a finger to the rock wall of the mine as if it had been Gold's chest. Or nose.

"I owe her nothing, Miss Swan. Now, I am not interested in extending this conversation any further. You have a good day, now, and leave me to my business."

"She does not deserve this, Gold. Debt or not. You can't leave someone to this. You've been here, you know what it feels like."

"Indeed I have been there. Nothing that can't be coped with. Besides, you are a resourceful sort. You'll find a way."

"You're it! You're my way!"_Breathe, Emma_, she told herself. _Keep him talking_.

"I did have better hopes for the savior, Child of True Love, than placing all your eggs in this one old basket, Miss Swan."

"Anything! I'll do anything, Gold." She was losing him. Losing it and losing her one chance. The enormity of it, of what was left when he said no, was overwhelming and her voice cracked as she pulled at her hair, wiped at the tears, waiting, just waiting and hoping that she might have something, anything that he might want badly enough.

"Tempting terms but I am sticking to my original game plan. Not interested, I regret to say."

And the phone went dead, the electronic version of a dead end.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Henry panicked. Did fairies faint? There was nothing in the book… nothing and he didn't know anything about women in general or fairies in particular or even about fainting and now Leroy was going to kill him because he had told him to take care of her and now she was passed out on Snow's area rug and oh, crap, crap, crap.

For a moment he just looked at Nova's body the floor, twisted at a weird angle and then he thought that it might be a good idea to do something, anything. He ran to the sink and soaked a dish cloth in cold water. He knelt by the fairy and while he was dabbing her forehead with the cold cloth, he found himself wondering about her wings, if there were wings on her back and if that was why she was wearing such a huge sweater. He wanted so desperately to have a look that was bordering on creepy so he just fidgeted a little because why was it taking so long for her to wake up.

When Nova tentatively blinked, Henry had more questions than ever. She pushed herself to a sitting position on the rug and Henry ran to fetch some water. He sat in front of her, simply observing her drink and blink as if there was sand in her eyes.

.

.

Nova could not quite understand why she was on the floor or why the Mayor's son was sitting in front of her, studying her with eyes so serious and an expression so closed that it would have been well at home on his mother's face.

"Do you have wings?" Henry had too many questions but in the end, that was the one that bubbled up first.

Nova dropped her glass when her hands went convulsively to her back, at an awkward angle, trying to feel what she was sure was there. "Mother Superior said no." But her fingers touched where she could reach and swear she felt something there. The same something that burned and bumped against the habit until she couldn't wear it anymore than she could fit into children's dresses.

"Do you believe her?"

Nova hid her face in her hands. "She's… she's Mother Superior and…"

"Except she's not. No really. She's the Blue Fairy, isn't she?"

"She said no and I…"

"Why are you touching your back, then?"

"Because it my wings should they're not because there's no magic. Mother Superior said so." Her hands strained to get to the center of her back and feel something there just to make sure she was not losing her mind.

"Can I have a look?"

"What if there is nothing there?"Henry shrugged because he didn't know and it genuinely puzzled him. "What if I am going crazy?"

"Because you feel like you should have wings and you don't?" Nova merely nodded, still trying to reach behind her back. "You're fairy. Why wouldn't you have wings?"

"Because Mother Superior says that there is nothing there. That there is no magic here. Why would I have wings if there is no magic?"

"Do you know there are birds that have wings even if they can't fly?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Can I have a look?"

Nova turned her back to Henry and raised the ugly sweater so that he could see her back.

.

.

To Henry, it was equal measures gross and disappointing. There was a reddened patch of skin that rose in two distinct lumps from an otherwise pale and smooth skin and looked remarkably like two huge, infected pimples. But no wings. He'd hoped that if Nova had had wings, it would mean that she would have magic. That she would not need fairy dust to do magic. Certainly would explain Blue's behavior, trying to control Nova.

Like any boy, he wanted to touch the two lumps and see what it was all about but was simultaneously repulsed by it.

"Henry?" Nova asked from the safety of her arms closed around her head. What could he say? Yeah, they could be wings. Then again, for all he knew, it could be just a large mosquito bite.

"It looks infected. Do you think that is why you are not feeling well?" Nova put her sweater down. For a moment she had been hoping the boy would tell her that there were wings coming out of her back because then she would not be losing her mind. "Do you wish they were wings?"

Nova nodded, sad. "All I ever wanted was to be a fairy godmother."

"Why weren't you?"

"Too clumsy. Too silly. Too distracted. Not good enough. I was never good enough to be one."

"My mom needed one… when she was little. I don't think she would have minded you being clumsy. She could use one now."

For a moment, Nova saw a future ahead of her. She saw herself fluttering between children that needed her and making all their worries go away. And then there was only Blue's closed off expression and tight blue habit reminding her that not only she was not good enough, she had no wings and no wand.

"There is no magic in this land, Henry. I have no wings, no wand… even if I wanted to…"

"Don't you want to?"

"I do. God, there is nothing I want more but…"

"Well, that thing on your back, that could be your wings coming back."

"What of a wand?"

"Do you really need one? My mom could do magic without one."

"The wand is the source of a fairy's power, Henry. It is fairy power concentrated…"

"What happened to the wands? I mean, every nun at the convent was a fairy and every one had a wand… so what happened to those wands?"

"I… maybe they didn't make it here… to Storybrooke."

"But what if they did?"  
"Then Mother Superior would have given them back. They are part of the fairy… like an arm or a leg…"

"What if she didn't?"

"Why would she do that, Henry?"  
"Maybe she wants them all to herself."

"That's not… I mean… Blue is not like that…"

"Are you sure?"

A stubborn little something in her head moved around a little, a shadow in the woods at night but the same way it appeared leaving Nova with a vague feeling that yes, Blue was exactly like that, it left, forced away by a blinding pain that threatened to split her head in two.

Nova breathed through the nausea caused by the pain and could not commit either way.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Children's drawings hung from the classroom walls where they were precariously stuck with blue tack. It was an unlikely setting to decide a matter of life and death and still Dr Hopper could not help but think that it was oddly appropriate. "The Prosecution asks for the death penalty." Even the thought aggravated his nervous stutter and made him wipe at his spectacles compulsively with the tail of his flannel shirt.

There was a clearing of throats around the table.

"It pains me to say, but I believe that the Prosecutor may be right in this one instance." Blue pronounced when nothing else was forthcoming. "Her Majesty has shown ample kindness and mercy to the Evil Queen. You have offered countless opportunities to change, stayed an execution. I myself stopped the arrows on that day. And not a day has gone by when I have not questioned that decision. Many have died- slaughtered- because she was free, because she was shown mercy. I cannot help but think that, painful decision though it might have been, having her destroyed… having her executed that day would have avoided the precarious situation we are in now. Can you honestly tell me that you do not regret that decision, Your Majesty? Can you honestly tell me that you do not regret the years you missed of your daughter's life or those that died between the day of the execution and the day the curse enveloped our land? Can you tell me that you do not regret The Hunter's death?"

"That is not on her shoulders, Blue!" Charming intervened, trying to keep his voice level. He succeeded only partly. "Those were Regina's decisions."  
"Indeed, Your Highness, but decisions she was free to carry out because she was alive and free. Even though we all knew better."

Snow shrunk into her seat and looked perilously close to tears. Charming wanted to spare her this but he had told her himself of the risk. He had warned her on that very day.

"If I may, Your Highness," Dr Hopper stuttered through the interruption, "I thought, back then, that Her Majesty was right in her decision. I have always believed that kindness and mercy bear richer fruits than stricter justice."

"The evidence begs to differ, Dr Hopper." Blue's stern gaze was intensely trained on Dr Hopper and it took all his strength to utter his next sentence.

"You taught me that, Blue. You showed me mercy when no one else would have."

The clicking of Granny's knitting needles was the only sound in the room until she sighed heavily. "Look, I have a diner to run and I am running out of patience with this so I'm just going to say it: I am voting against a death sentence. We were all there for the trial. We all heard what was said and there is no point rehashing it. Quite frankly, most of what I heard makes me want to throw up in my mouth. But more than that." She put her knitting on the table and took her crossbow from under her chair and set on the table with a loud clunk. "If you think that executing her will be a fitting punishment, then I suggest that take the sword and you look her in the eye while you swing that sword at her neck. I can't. I can't look at her and think _I'm better than you_ and swing that sword. If you would take her life despite all that you now know, then you owe it to her to look into her eyes and hear her last words. And if you can't do that, then perhaps she does not deserve to die."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Nova was starting to like Henry. Sure, children were sacred and should always be liked but she was starting to like Henry despite his age, despite him being a child. It was easy talking to him. He did not make her feel like a fool for thinking she had wings sprouting on her back and he asked questions that helped her think, that helped her breakdown things into tiny increments, more manageable. Easier to deal with. And it was probably because of that that she followed him to the mine. Even though there was a tinge of guilt to her. She should have known this. She should have known that there was a child in need of a fairy godmother or just a fairy or a friend and she should have done something.

She wasn't quite sure how to get into that cave and face the Mayor so when Henry approached the bars to greet his mothers, she stayed slightly behind, trying to pluck up with the courage to do something meaningful, something within her particularly scant resources.

She saw Henry lace his arms around his mother's waist and then hug the Sheriff and even though they were in such a terrible predicament, they were a family. She thought it was perhaps best that she leave and let them have their privacy but Henry called her forward. The Sheriff seemed less than happy to have her there, her keen eyes trained on her as if at any moment she would attack one of them.

Henry beckoned her forward. "Do you remember Nova, mom?"

It was not as an aggressive a stare as that of the Sheriff, but it was a gaze that was full of suspicion and hurt and, from what she had heard during the trial, for plenty of good reasons. Nova felt the shame bubble in her heart and in her stomach.

"I'm sorry." It blurted out of her mouth before she could even think about it. And it did not surprise only her. The Mayor's head snapped up from gazing at her son still as much in her arms as possible with the bars between them and there was surprise and shock there. "I am so sorry. Please forgive us. You should have been protected. No matter whose daughter or how you had been fated, you should have had someone on your side. Someone to look over you and protect you. I am so sorry."

"Why are you here?" Emma's stance was of aggressive defense. She had her arms across her chest and seemed ready for battle, with her bare hands if she needed to.

"I told her to come. Blue wants her back at the convent but I think that's a bad idea."

Emma pulled her son aside only enough to give her an illusion of privacy but well within reach should Nova try to attack Regina. "Kid! Come on! Why do we even care? Nuns should be in the convent. Honestly, I don't like them. I don't trust them as far as I can spit them. Any of them."

"Emma, come on! There has to be a reason Blue wants her there so badly. She was not happy when I offered to walk with Nova. And Nova doesn't want to go back there and she doesn't know how to explain it."

"Doesn't know or doesn't want to?"

"Doesn't know. And I, for one, intend to find out why is so scared of Blue."

"Kid… This is not a Scooby-Doo Saturday morning special…"

"What if she can help mom, Memma? She is a fairy. Maybe she can help us. Please trust me on this. I have a feeling she can help."

"I trust you kid. I'm just not sure we can trust her."

.

.

Nova looked Regina in the eye and that took almost all her strength. "I don't know why you were abandoned like that."

Regina thought for a second, trying to understand precisely what the fairy was getting at. "Maybe there weren't enough fairies to go around." She suggested and there was a hint of malice in her voice, a curl on her lip, the one that used to scare Sister Astrid out of her wits.

"I don't think that was why. All I ever wanted was to be a fairy godmother. I was available. I know I'm not good enough, but surely having someone like me would have been better than no one at all."

It was the sad note in Nova's voice that struck a chord with Regina. "Maybe it was important that I was left to my own devices."

"If it was, then please, you must know, we are not all the same. All I ever wished for was to be a fairy godmother. Instead, I was out collecting fairy dust."

"Perhaps that was career progression?" Regina felt that this was not a conversation she was equipped to have, not without ruffling some feathers- or outright plucking them- but Emma was busy with Henry and it seemed that it would fall to her to keep the fairy going. "I mean…"

"Career progression? No… it was like a calling. Except I'm not good enough. Wasn't good enough. Not even to collect the dust. Maybe if I'd been less clumsy…"

"Did Blue tell you that?"

"She didn't have to, did she? Some things you just need to look in her eyes to know. And I was a disappointment to her."

And that was something that Regina was familiar with.

"In this land there is a saying about not giving up on your dreams." And she could not quite believe she was having this conversation with a fairy, of all beings. It wasn't like she suddenly resented never having had a fairy godmother. You can't miss what you never had, and a fairy was a fairy, annoying flying bugs, all of them, beyond all reasonable thinking… Except this was Henry's fairy. She looked at her son and her heart beat a powerful beat in her chest, the familiar feeling of love coursing through her veins fast and furious at the sight or thought of the boy. "You should follow your dreams."

"There is no magic in this land."

"I suppose that's a hindrance. "

"I suppose."

"I'm not sure anyone should take advice from me, Nova, but after all this time, I have come to believe one thing: the things you regret the most are the dreams you do not chase."

There was an awkward moment where Nova seemed to be weighing the pros and cons of chasing dreams in Regina's fashion. And then it was gone. "Can I be yours?"

"My what?"

"Your fairy godmother, of course!"

For a moment, Regina's heart beat out of pace. She wanted to be annoyed at that galling optimism of the fairy but all she could feel was an ineffable sadness.

"I'm beyond that now Nova but thank you for the offer…" Nova's enthusiasm dropped more than a notch. "Thank you for the sentiment."

Of course, Nova thought. Why would anyone want to be under her protection? They would probably need protection from her. She only nodded while Regina sunk into her cot with discrete grimace when she sat.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Granny picked up her knitting and resumed the fastidious work. Except for Blue, all eyes rested uneasily on the crossbow that seemed to have formed a presence of its own.

"I don't think any of his council ever considered death penalty a viable choice." David weighed in because he hadn't considered it. Not really. Maybe on those first days when Emma was hunkering down in the mine and he could only miss his daughter, miss her grown up and miss her a baby still, warm from her mother's body. Maybe then, but not since, not really. And the _before the curse_ felt like a different life, a different country, where people had different customs that he could not really understand.

"Good." Granny grumbled. "So let us move on to the real discussion, then." And her fingers laced red wool over the needles.

"Every man is guilty of the good he did not do." Dr Hopper broke the silence with a soft remark that could easily have been for his own benefit. Beside him, Geppetto nodded sagely at the assessment.

Blue's head whipped around at that, then stood and paced the room. "That is absolute rubbish. We are responsible for our own decisions. This is ridiculous! Next you will tell me that she should have been defended from a loving father or that I am to blame to for her choices." The offense of the remark vibrated in her tone like a too tight chord.

"Well…" Ruby mumbled none too subtly from her seat, eyes cast to the window.

"What could that possibly mean?" The Fairy bristled. "You cannot seriously be undertaking to accuse me of this."

"Uh… no… not yet. But…" Ruby started out hesitant but her voice grew in confidence as she spoke. "I would like to know why. I mean, if you know what people are fated for and protect that destiny, then you should have known what hers was. And protected her- or failing that, protected us - from her destiny. Why didn't you? That's what I would like to know."

"Miss Lucas, you have been in this land too long. I am not their God. I am not all powerful. And I did my level best to protect us, to give us a fighting chance."

"But you knew about her."

"Miss Lucas, I never_" Strong opposition or not, Ruby was on a roll and she cut Blue short."Did you know about me? Did you know what I was going to become?"

"And while we're at it, did you know about the dog collar you put on Regina?" Granny spoke while still knitting and the effect of the knitting needles clacking furiously against each other was enough to have the council silent.

"What on earth do you mean, Widow Lucas? What exactly am I being accused of?"

"Actually, Blue," David intervened with what he hoped was a calming effect, "We are not accusing you of anything. But I would like to know that as well. Why did the collar burn her skin?" When Blue did not reply, David tacked on questions. "Did you know it would do that to her? Was that necessary?"

"With all due respect, Your Highness, I feel that I am the one standing trial right now and quite frankly, I cannot say that I_"

"Why are you being so defensive?" Maybe it was the whole thing with Nova, but Leroy spoke none too kindly. Not that he ever did. The truth was his stock and trade. "Do you have anything to hide?"

"Don't be ridiculous! Has this trial turned the truth into lies? Have you all forgotten the death, the destruction, the hurt and the pain this woman caused you? Us? Have you forgotten the knife to your side, dear Snow? Have you forgotten the pain of your daughter's birth only to lose her? The murdered innocent? The collar stopped her magic. That was all. How confident are you that she would not have done all those things during her trial had I not stopped her? She had nothing else to lose. Destroying us is in her nature. And you know that."

"Did you know, Blue? Did you change the bars in her cell so that she could not so much as touch her son without being burned?" Snow asked, hands clutched to her chest

"And your daughter, don't forget that, Your Majesty." Snow's jaw dropped open at Blue's words, so laced with bitterness. "She is touching her too. She's polluting your child. Polluting the child of true love. "

"Did you know, Blue? Did you choose to do that?" David put his hand over the Fairy's wrist only to be swatted away.

"Your Highness!" And the rebuke was a polite version of an extended middle finger with which the fairy turned and stood up to leave. "When you come to your senses, let me know. I only hope the Evil Queen is not too powerful to be stopped then. The Savior has already been corrupted. You are all tilting in the same direction. Who's to stand against evil, I ask you?" And the door closed behind her with a thud that had a childish drawing of dragon coming unstuck to flutter gently to the ground.

"What if she's right, Your Majesty?"

Dr Hopper placed his hand on Geppetto's shoulder. "I think, my friend, that we all know that we cannot fight evil with evil. If that was all it ever was anyway. There may be no justification for the things that Regina has done. But there can be understanding. And there can be hope. I think, most of all, there can be hope." He looked out of the window. "I don't believe Regina is corrupting the child of true love…" Dr Hopper looked at Snow ruefully. "Maybe the child of true love is healing a deeply hurt woman with that love."

"It hardly seems fair… after all she has done." Snow ventured but it was tentative, as if she could not make the conviction of the words reach her heart.

"Fairness is a funny thing…" Grumpy ventured softly.

"Indeed," Dr Hopper removed his spectacles and wiped them again on the tail of shirt. "All of us here in this room, we are all mostly made out of flaws, held together with good intentions. Does that absolve us?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma looked at her phone. Gold was not taking her calls anymore. She was going about this the wrong away and that was not usual for her. One thing she knew was that when you need a favor, you do not make a pest of yourself. You charm and you allure but you do not antagonize and badger. It seemed, with Gold, that ship had sailed.

She punched keys randomly because it helped with her thought process. She had no magic to speak of. No knowledge of magic and very little knowledge of the world she'd been born in, of its rules. What she needed now was to gather intelligence. She needed to know where to go to get magic and how to use magic or to find someone who could. "Henry? Where's your book, kid?"

To Henry, _the book _did not require any further explanations. There was only one. Henry pointed to his backpack. He knew it by heart but was not about to leave it any odd place. He carried it with him like other boys carry Swiss army knives they did not know how to put to good use.

"What are you looking for?" Regina sat by the bars, pillow between her and the metal, sipping water. The dark circles under her eyes scared Emma more than anything, more than the sudden sickness or the dizziness or the fainting spells. They impressed on her the need to move fast, the need to get her out of here, into the fresh air, into a clean bed or a hospital to get her checked out.

"A way out."

Regina lowered her eyes into her lap. "Emma…"

"No, hear me out, okay? Whatever they come up with, I want you out of here. This hole in the ground is not…" At a loss for words, she almost crawled from where she was leaning against the rock wall to kneel by Regina and hold her hands through the bars. "We are not… I'm not taking this as a solution, Regina. And they will do what they need to do and we will do what we need to do. And that is getting you out of here. And I for one am not trusting the fairies for that. No offense, Nova."

Nova simply nodded a _none taken. _

"But… do you think the book can help?" Henry asked coming to sit with them.

"I don't know where else to look." Emma admitted. "It's not like I know anything about that place. So I guessed going back to the beginning might be a good start."

"What are we looking for?"

"Magic, Kid."

"Mother Superior says there is no magic in this land…" Emma simply snorted, a sound so unladylike that it made Regina raise her eyes from where she had them, trained on her hands and smile at Emma.

"That's not true though... otherwise we would not have these bars between us. She locked them with magic." Henry's face closed off, a sadness so intense coming over his features that it made him look old.

"But that is not magic from this land. She did that with fairy dust which is magic from our land..."

.

.

Regina could see the moment the idea solidified in Emma's mind and a shiver ran down her spine as if trouble had arrived, just not yet announced itself.

"So what we need is to get more dust."

"Except there isn't any more, Memma."

"Because Mother Superior was attacked." Nova's words were slow and dragged as if she was trying to make sure of them herself.

""Yeah, right… If only I believed that."

"You don't?" Nova's eyes were wide and expectant.

"No, Nova, I don't. Do you honestly believe that she was attacked?"

.

.

Nova's head was going to explode. Everything went fuzzy first and then simply swirled around and around in her head as if it was scrambling her brain. The shadow in the woods imprinted in her eyes swollen and distorted and it took over herhead, her heart, even her wings. It became all she knew, that threat and the absolute pain that came with it in waves.

When Nova came to, she was against the bars of the cell, with the Mayor dabbing a cold cloth on her forehead and her wings throbbing again.

.

.

It had been too long. Too long without magic and still, Regina thought, she could smell it, she could feel it on others. She could fear it. This was something that would have been at home in her household, in her mother's hands turned against her. Regina dabbed at Nova's forehead because this was magic, the really bad kind and she knew what it felt like in her own body. No, she had no reason to doubt Nova and every reason to believe that Blue had done something to the rest of the dust. And there was just enough will in her, just enough backbone to be angry, furious, livid at Blue. Which was a change because lately she felt nothing but a molasses of grief and regret.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

An ache pounded at Snow's head, so intense that it was near to blinding. She closed her eyes before the urge to throw up became too overwhelming to resist.

"I need some fresh air… I need…" She opened the window and leaned over the parapet inhaling deeply. Bile rose burning through all the way up to her mouth and she barely had time to grab a dustbin, but there was nothing but dry heaves. Behind her, the council remained still.

"Snow… You do not need to decide today." Ruby stood and was going to walk to her friend, the comfort she knew she could provide an impulse born out of an old habit, but David rose his hand to stay her movement.

"We don't need to decide anything today…" Geppetto offered.

Gathering some semblance of control, Snow cleaned her mouth and deposited the still empty bin on the floor. "Until we decide, she will be there. Regina will be there, in that dark hole. I could not breathe in there. I felt like my chest did not work properly."

"That was not a problem before, YourMajesty, when we contained Rumplestiltskin in there."

Snow felt she was going to be sick, the bile rising again, burning everything at its passage. No, _containing _Rumplestiltskin in there had not felt quite right to her either. "I want to go home." She looked up at her prince. She wanted to go home and put her head in her pillow and forget about everything, about the weight of the decisions that awaited her, about Regina and Emma in that hole. She wanted to be a child again without a care in the world. "I want to go home."

.

.

Leroy left the council room with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, frustration simmering right under his skin, making it crawl. In a way, it did not matter at all if they made a decision today or not because those bars were not giving an inch. But he was a man of action. He was a doer and not doing, staying still even if just in indecision- made his beard itch and his hands ache for the feel of a cold one or an axe to break things.

Snow left the school building leaning heavily on her prince and that irritated him a little because this was not the Snow he knew, the Snow that was a doer just like him. This was Snow cowering under the weight of her sins and he wanted to shake her until she returned his Snow to him. This was getting on his nerves and as he turned to leave, he bumped into Mrs Cooke.

"It's not fair, Leroy."

"What isn't?"  
"Any of this. If here is punishment to be meted out, the Mayor should notbe the only one in line for it."

Snow caught just the rest of it, and he could see the recognition in her eyes. "They have this thing in this land, Your Majesty… _He without sin cast the first stone_."

"Not all sins are the same, Mrs Cooke."

"No, they are not, Your Majesty. But we all have them. Will we all stand trial and receive punishment?"

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

The populace was a beast he knew and admired for its simplicity and perfection: toss them a reason for the things that afflict them, give it name and tell them who to blame for it and they are ready, rearing to go. The Prosecutor sat in the late afternoon sun and courted the populace. He showed them what was wrong with their lives and told them how the Mayor and Evil Queen had done that to them, _specifically_ to them and how Queen Snow now had her hands tied behind her back given her daughter's poor judgment. Carefully, he explained how the kingdom was as good as in the hands of the Evil Queen again and softly stirred the pot bringing it to a boil. It would not take much, only a few more careful words and the beast, the populace would be asking for a new king. A king with an iron fist and an unbendable will.

Obviously, humbly, he would step up and for his first act of power, he would eliminate the Evil Queen and the threat of evil. That should be a nice kick start to a long and fruitful reign.

.

.

It was sheer bad luck for Snow- or so it felt like it at that moment- that she would sniff the coup in the wind. It stank and it offended her already tired eyes but needs must. With the practiced ease of a dancing couple, Snow and David moved arm in arm until they stopped in from of the car against which the Prosecutor was leaning by way of soapbox. He had his public entranced and could not disband them until it was too late for plausible deniability. Snow moved in on him, toe to toe, nose to nose and spoke without a hint of hesitation or concession to the aura of migraine already clouding her eyes.

"You do remember what we do with traitors back home, do you not, _King George_? Make no mistake: a guillotine is perfectly simple to build and treason is still treason." George's eyes narrowed in challenge because this was Snow and Snow was not a bloodthirsty queen. "I know how fond you are of the old land's rules. Let's see how fond you are of living- or dying- by them." And with that, she did a quick sweep of the small –and quickly thinning crowd- with her eyes including them in the very open threat.

.

.

David would not lie: this Snow was the one he had fallen in love with and it shot straight to his groin, making him hard, that power, that surety in her voice. He lingered a step behind, just making sure and then trailed after her, high fiving Leroy simply because this felt a lot like the best part of old times.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma and Regina were huddled together, Regina's hands over Emma's on the iron bars that separated them, foreheads so close they could feel each other's warmth.

"It's a spell. Every time Nova tries to remember something, the spell stops her with pain. Excruciating pain. She's better off not remembering. Leave her." Regina spoke, both index fingers rubbing tinny little circles over Emma's.

"I need to know. Blue sits on that council. I need Nova to prove that Blue sabotaged this whole thing."

"She won't be able to. You saw it yourself. She will die before she can speak of it. Leave her alone."

"I can't. Don't you see, Regina, as long as people believe her- and by people I mean the council and Snow- we don't stand a snowball's chance in hell."

"I. You mean _I _don't stand a chance. I don't want this for you or Henry, Emma."

"Sure, me either but_" Regina captured Emma's lips with hers. The initial aggression born out of the need to change Emma's train of thought softened into a sweet kiss, loaded with need and longing, something languid that brought the wind and the rain and the sunshine into the darkness of her cell and filled it with freshness. Regina knew where this was going. Emma was a Charming through and through. If the trial did not work out the way Emma thought it should, they would both be stuck here, separated by bars, with Emma doing time, screwing up her life to a point where she would resent Regina for everything. Like everybody else. You can't really change the way you feel (and she wouldn't. This _thing_ with Emma was the best she'd ever felt since Daniel) but you can make yourself do the right thing despite your feelings.

"She is dangerous, Emma. And you have upset her apple cart enough that she might just hate you. Stay away from her. Stand clear. I can't..." The expression she was looking for was _I can't lose you _but didn't that defeat the purpose?

"I can handle her. But I need to get you out of here. What do you think she did with the dust?"

Regina licked her lips and she could still taste Emma and the kiss. "I don't…"

"She hid it… I would have hidden it. Somewhere where she can get to it again. Keep an eye on it… it's precious, isn't it? A source of magic in a land without magic…"

"Destroyed it. I would have destroyed it."

Emma looked from their joint hands to Regina's face. Sometimes, it was so difficult to remember that this woman had been the Evil Queen. And then, sometimes, those things were right there, shadows no longer. And none of it dulled the pull she felt towards Regina. It magnified it. It was not a _despite of_. It was a _because of_. All of these feelings filling her heart were _because of_.

Regina's expression closed. These were the moments she wished she could be somebody else. She could see it in Emma's face, the recognition that the Evil Queen lived on. Her fragile heart beat erratically in her chest. She wanted to spare Emma and, at the same time, didn't want to let her go.

But Emma was… more than she deserved. Emma ran her fingers over Regina's cheekbone and down her chin. "Don't ruin my hope with your evil logic. As far as I'm concerned, the blue bitch hid a baggie of dust on the insole of her shoe and is walking around like a dealer, ready to do business." The glint of mischief in Emma's eyes scared Regina out of her mind.

"Don't you dare, Emma. You don't know her. You don't know what she's capable of. Please don't. It's not worth it."

They spoke at the same time,"Regina, you are not this dumb…" and "I'm not worth it." and each was surprised but what the other had said, by the vehemence of it.

"Okay. That's it. I've had it." Emma recovered first. "I'll take that shit from anyone but you. You do not get to talk about the woman I love like that, alright? Regina, do you understand me?"

.

.

Emma's throat felt raw as if the confession had been ripped from her throat with a hot iron. She was suddenly conscious of the hands clasped firmly around Regina's delicate wrists and yet, could not make herself let go, mostly because of the utter shock of a confession she hadn't known was lurking so close to the surface. And then came the panic, of course, because now it was _a thing_ and it was out in the open and it seemed that it was pulsing with a heartbeat of its own between hers and Regina's bodies and, _god_, it was scary. Which was stupid because she'd been wrapped around Regina's little finger since the moment she had pushed that old heart into her chest- maybe even from the moment she had dropped Henry at her door for the first time- and the only thing lacking was a noun, a name.

And then Regina smiled a little, and there were tears pooling at her eyes, a little, and then simply rolling down her cheeks and none of it was the smiles or the tears Emma had seen on that face before, but I was okay. Better than that, actually, because the tears were like spring rain and the smile was fragile but honest and Regina's face came to rest against Emma's fingers still closed around her wrists.

"Thank you." It was an almost non-sound but Emma heard it, loud and clear and, quite possibly, not even with her ears. "Thank you."

"What kind of response is that? _Thank you?_ What the hell…" Regina snorted inelegantly, but this was not a ball or a town meeting and she felt she was allowed.

"Thank you." Regina said again, stronger now. "I love you. And thank you. _Thank you. I love you."_

Emboldened by Regina's words, drunk on them, Emma's heart wanted more and more and more. This was their moment, no matter where they were or whatfate hang over them. "Say it again."

.

.

For a terrible moment, Henry thought that Emma, his _Memma_ was hurting his mom and he nearly dropped the pot of soup he was carrying. Then, Emma's hands closed around Regina's wrists and Regina's tears sliding slowly down her cheeks took a different meaning as she nodded slowly and a fragile but luminous smile bloomed on her face. It was a beautiful smile. He wished he had a camera that he could take a picture with because he wanted to remember it and bask in it, place it on the fridge door so that he could see it every day.

Then, he put the pot on the floor and helped Nova with the package she had been dragging from Emma's car and into the cave. He wanted to gawk and he wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to come close and be a part of that tight unit but it occurred to him at that moment that those two women were already deprived of so much that him barging in there and getting some of that _palpable_ love was unfair, selfish and that simply knowing that it was there, well, it would have to be enough because he was not a baby. He was a man, and men took care of their own. And they were his to take care of.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Granny's was a hub of hushed conversations and an unlikely political theatre. The pieces were moving, Granny noted, like in a chess game. She hated it. She much preferred the full speed ahead approach and instinctually, touched the crossbow that she had taken to keep under the counter by the beer glasses. Reassured, she continued, wiping glasses and serving lasagna and keeping an e on things.

Kathryn Nolan, Princess Abigail, she supposed, came and sat in front of her, shiny new ring on her finger. For all that a shit storm was gathering over Storybrooke, there were the occasional happy endings or, better yet, happy beginnings, as this was a new land. Abigail's skin glowed, pink with health and love.

"Princess Abigail. What can I get you?"

"I like Kathryn better. Is it weird?"

"You know what's weird? Bacon Marmalade." Kathryn gave a rueful smile. There was that… people smiled more, these days. "It's a thing. Look it up. No, it's not weird. Do you like your life better here?"

There was this whole princessy aura about Kathryn in the way she sat perfectly straight on a bar stool and crossed her hands on her lap as if waiting for fate to deliver on a promise. "I do. I have everything I need here. Everything I love."

"There you have it. Bacon Marmalade is weird. Liking who you are isn't."

"Granny… I'm glad I never had to walk a mile in Regina's shoes…"

"So am I, honey."

"Don't… I mean… I wish the council would… Maybe it's time life stops beating the hell out of her, you know?"

"Kathryn, I'm not good with politics and half words. I like things spelled out for me. What exactly are you trying to say?"

Kathryn fidgeted for a second, the least princessy she'd been since she had sat at that counter and then gave it up. "No death sentence, Granny. No death sentence." Her eyes were a little wild while she entreated Granny but it seemed like a weight had lifted from her chest. "Get her out of that cave too. It's a horrid place and no one deserves that. She's due a little kindness and I am happy enough to beg for it if I must."

"Why don't you talk to Snow about this? Because you're preaching to the choir…"

"Because _that_ is weird, still."

"Gotcha."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Granny was not the only one being approached by citizens of Storybrooke. Dr Hopper was minding his own business and dinner when young Grace slid into his booth, nervously chewing her bottom lip and checking behind her.

"Dr Hopper?" It was the interruption, more than anything. His thoughts staled on their course and lasagna sauce spilled onto his shirt. He dabbed at it with a napkin but his efforts only succeeded in spreading the stain even further. He schooled his anxious expression into one of serenity before looking at theyoung girl.

"Hi."

"My name's Grace… I'm…"

"I know. You're Jefferson's daughter."

"Yes… Dr Hopper, please… What are they going to do to Henry's mom?"

"Grace… I…"

"I'm not a child, Dr Hopper." She looked behind her again in the direction of the toilets and that nervousness was at odds with her statement about her childhood. "My Papa… He's upset. He's grieving for what he thinks we lost."

"You don't?"

"There's no point in that, is there? Killing the Queen will not give it back. Dr Hopper…" She let the words hang again when the door to the toilets moved inwards.

"I understand, Grace."  
"Promise?"

"Promise. The past is the past and can't be changed. The future can." Grace smiled nervously while she retreated to her booth. Dr Hopper could see at that moment that Storybrooke had a future and that it was going to be a good one. He smiled his reassurance to Grace. He would do all that he could to preserve that future.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Leroy was more than a little anxious and upset when he knocked on Snow's door and Henry did not come trotting to let him in. He wanted to see Nova and he wanted to talk to her because it had been a pisser of a day and, quite frankly, even the sight of her face made everything better. His first instinct was to sulk on that doorstep but passersby kept on giving him studious looks and some of them seemed like they were about to go over and _talk_ to him about something important so he figured he might as well get going and finding Nova.

He didn't really find her. It was more like he found her trail: Emma's eyesore of a car passed him by none too confidently driven and with a mattress piled on top and his heart told him to follow it. It was rare- if it at all ever happened- that his heart spoke to him about anything at all (except perhaps as an admonition to lay off the booze) so he paid it some mind and followed the car. He was no athlete but the car was going slower than any other car in Storybrooke lately so he trailed it to the mine, huffing and puffing. Perhaps it was more than the booze. Perhaps theburgers and fries had to give too.

At least, no one seemed to be in a mind to race after him to talk about stuff.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Snow couldn't settle, torn between the pull towards the Regina of her childhood, the one that had been wronged and befallen by unfairness, unkindness and loss; and the deep seated knowledge, if not belief, that she had not yet given Regina a chance that she had not lived to regret. She both wanted to give her yet one more chance and to not be swayed by sentimentality.

And then there was that baby. Dear god, a baby. It brought back so much of those fateful days of her childhood. She remembered. She wished she didn't. She had worked so hard at forgetting all that blood, all that hurt in Regina's face and Regina's desperate hands clutching at the white sheets of her bed without someone to sooth her, to hold her through it. It brought back the streak of jealousy and discomfort. Dear god, Regina's baby.

And why did Emma look so happy in her dream? How would Regina explain a pregnancy to Emma if they were… _together_? She was going to hurt Emma. She was going to break Emma's heart and… Regina was going to break Emma's heart. Just like she had broken Snow's With a baby in both instances. Snow hated herself for a moment. She was no longer a child. She knew now how Regina had come to be with child back then and how it was, more than likely, against her will, but it still grated that she was not Regina's only choice, her only child. She carved her nails into her palms, eight perfect half moons. She hated herself for feeling it all over again, for letting that feeling be real again, and it was not even the same thing and she should not even be feeling now that she was a grown woman and there was so much between them. This was different. This baby was proof of yet one more betrayal. Regina had betrayed Emma and gotten herself a baby.

A baby. So many betrayals. How would it even be possible or fair to see Regina holding a baby in her arms, nursing it, playing with it, when Snow hadn't been allowed to do the same to her own baby.

It seemed to her that life never played fair with her and Regina. They were always put in impossible positions where there seemed to be no way out. And the worry was that, no matter what she decided, there were two very, very big problems: the townsfolk that would not all welcome her decision and the bars of the cell that would not open.

Where would that leave the baby? Born behind bars and, worse, living behind bars?

Tacos.

She would make tacos. Emma seemed to find the solution to her problems was to cook tacos. There had to be some value in that. And once the tacos were done, she would think about it some more.

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Nova was not in the habit of bringing ideas to reality so this had all worked out better in her imagination than in reality. She was sweaty and disheveled and had broken two fingernails just from the awkwardness of pulling a mattress from the car to the cave. There was no comfortable or easy way to drag it and Henry, the little dear, was carting the soup and the bowls and the cutlery and was but a child. So she pulled harder. She'd been thinking about magic wands and wondered what had happened to them. She herself had never had one, but the other fairies, they'd all had their own and none of them seemed to have it now. Not that she asked. Too nervous. Too much of an outsider. Not a single one of them seemed to be having the same problem with the wings and she was too scared to ask.

This would have been easy peezy with a wand. Or so she thought. Maybe she'd be as inept with a wand as without and this was just the world doing itself a favor.

Honestly, how could she even assume she had what it took to be a fairy godmother? Pity the poor soul she took under her protection. She could not save herself a couple broken nails, how was she qualified to do this?

And then she raised her head from the mattress and straightened her back. The Mayor and the Princess were sitting on the earth floor, and there was some ineffable emotion between them, something pure and rare that Nova had never seen the likes of. It filled the cave with a sense of goodness and she was struck by how unfair it was that they be separated this way that they could do precious little more than hold hands. And even that would cost the Mayor were she to touch that metal of the bars.

It was so unfair.

She pushed the mattress a little further and that caught the attention of the two women.

"You should have had a gift from your fairy godmother, Your Majesty." Regina did not comment. She simply burrowed in Emma's hands a little more. "I know it's not the conventional gift to a new born. I don't really have any of those in me… but I was hoping you would… I mean, you told me to follow my dreams. There is no magic, so I can't really do… of course, it's not like I ever really could do much of anything, but…" Nova giggled a little because she was nervous like she had never been in her life. She took a deep breath. "Please let me be your fairy godmother. It's not a particularly good gift and I am not a particularly good fairy godmother, but…" And she had no more arguments but groveling. Which she would do. But the Mayor stood and god, she looked like she was going to cry which just went to prove how inept Nova was at this whole thing. Maybe the world would be better off if she did not follow any dreams. But the Mayor held her hand to her and said "I don't know how to thank you, Nova. Godmother."

Nova actually jumped, a little at least, because the acceptance gave her a little jolt.

"Okay… okay…" Now what? Ah, right, the mattress and the soup. She pushed the mattress towards the bars and realized that it would take a miracle for it to go through. Stupid, stupid Nova. She looked dejectedly at the bars and the mattress. A kind of resolve rained down on her. It didn't matter. There might have been no miracles to be had but there was always brute force. She raised the mattress to the bars and started pushing and squeezing it throughand then Emma and Henry were both at it, helping, pushing, squeezing and when Leroy came in, huffing and puffing as if he had ran a marathon, he put his shoulder to it and slowly but surely, the mattress was pushed past the bars with minimal damage. It landed squarely against the cot and it took only a push from the Mayor and Emma each on their side of the bars and the mattress fell into its desired position. Nova cried when Regina, sweaty and pale from the effort fell onto the mattress. "It's quite wonderful, dear. Thank you."

**~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~**

Emma tried her best to not toss and turn. Nova's soup and the company, the absolute normalcy of having company for dinner, almost made it possible to forget about the whole nightmarish- scratch that- the whole fucked up reality. For a few moments, they were just having a meal with friends. They were a couple with a kid and friends that were sharing a meal.

But now, in the dark, with Regina beginning her nightly exertions, the pained breathing and the occasional mewling of pain, Emma could not recapture that feeling. Now they were not just a couple with odd living arrangements. They two people in love, separated by an immovable barrier, unable to offer physical comfort. With a sentence hanging over their heads that might well include things ranging from life in prison to death sentence. She tried to believe that Snow and David would not stoop so low. That they would not give in to the pressure exerted by Storybrooke and history but faith did not come easy to her.

Regina panted softly in her sleep as if she had been panting through pain of a particularly vicious kind and then she mumbled _please, no, I'll be good_ and no soothing that Emma offered through the bars was enough.

Tears streaked Regina's face and Emma lost it. She stood up and padded out of the cave and then out of the mine. There was a window of opportunity here. A very small window of opportunity in which to act. For all she knew, the council could come to an agreement tomorrow and whatever they decided, would be swift and decisive. And she could not live with it. She could not live with the weight of it. When she got outside, under the light of the moon, she checked her gun, her pocket knife and then patted the glove compartment of the bug for the assortment of trade tools she kept there.

Satisfied, she gave the mine guards one last sharp look and then set out pushing the bug to its creaky, squeaky limits that did not seem to improve with its more peaceful life in Storybrooke. She parked under the cover of the trees and hoofed it the rest of the way to the convent at a punishing pace.

The Blue fairy had the dust and she would find it, even if she had to pry it from the fairy's cold, dead fingers. It was about time people knew what Emma was capable of to protect the ones she loved.


End file.
